What If
by Mia Moretti
Summary: What if Cameron's husband hadn't died? What if she was still married when she was working under House? And what will happen when things get so sexually charged, with them both having 'other halves?
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys!  
This is my newest fanfic venture :) It's based around the idea of: what if Cameron's husband _hadn't_ died and she'd still been married working under House?  
The rating is pretty much Teen for themes, situations etc, but I'll put a warning explicitly on the chapter if it's anything higher :)

Hope you enjoy it, and please R&R as it does help me better my writing getting your opinions and suggestions.

Peace & Cheers  
Amylia  
-x-

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**What If**

**Chapter One – Happily Married**

"You like him, admit it. You like House."

"Foreman, just drop it, would you? I'm married. _Happily_ married. And he's happy with Stacy…as happy as House can ever be."

"Come off it, you know that relationship with Stacy isn't going to last much longer. And you're not answering the question."

"There _was_ no question to answer, you made a statement."

And Eric Foreman knew he was beaten. The quick wit of Allison Cameron was a force to be reckoned with, especially when she felt the need to be defensive. No matter what Foreman said to try and coax even the smallest slither of 'truth' from her, she was far too sharp and stubborn…and it was proving damn near impossible to crack her.

With a smug smile, satisfied she'd shut him up at least for the moment; she finished loading the centrifuge and headed out of the lab, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floors as she left Foreman to contemplate news ways of getting into her head.

It somewhat amused her how certain he was that he was 'onto something' with them. But _nobody_ liked House. She certainly didn't. At least, not in the way Foreman believed. She was married, as she kept reminding herself when a tiny stirring of doubt crossed her mind under intense interrogation from both Chase and Foreman. Ok, so she had a soft spot for House, she'd admit that much. But she loved her husband, and their child. And she was sure that the stirring of doubt her co-workers had manage to create in her was solely down to their stupid, far-fetched ideas planting seeds in her mind. They were psyching her out. And yes, ok, House did have some kind of dark magic about him that fascinated her…but only because he was a kind of puzzle to her. As much as she was a puzzle to him. He challenged her and pushed her in ways no other employer ever had. He expected everything she did to be right, which was nearly impossible, but it gave her such a thrill when she did get it right and his gaze lingered on her appreciatively for a fraction of a second longer than usual. That gaze sent shivers up and down her spine, but she refused to acknowledge it was because of any deeply buried feelings she had for him, rather, the fact that he could evoke that effect on nearly every woman in the hospital. It wasn't just her.

As she neared the office she slowed, steeling herself against his bad mood. His mood had been progressively worsening all week and by now – Friday afternoon – things were almost at breaking point. They all knew he'd been fighting with Stacy all week so, as Chase quietly noted, he probably wasn't getting any, ergo his crankiness.

As she entered the differential diagnosis office, her logical side took over and she headed straight for the coffee machine. He'd be less likely to start throwing things around the room if she was bearing gifts of black walnut and ginger. And if all else failed, she could simply use the scalding herbal tea as a weapon. Win-win situation.

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"House?"

She prayed she wasn't stepping willingly into the lion's den. Noting his closed blinds with darkness preceding them, she'd paused for a moment before pushing open the glass door as gently as possible.

"You better have coffee."

She smiled, picking up on the sleepy huskiness in his voice and involuntarily shivering as it reverberated through her and left the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw his desk chair was empty and frowned in confusion. Before her brain could register it, she felt a warm, firm figure close to her back and in an instant he was against her. He reached for the cup, Cameron still too dazed to react but every muscle in her body tensing at his proximity, her heart skipping more than just a few beats.

"This coffee for me? Aww, you shouldn't have."

His breath was hot on her neck and the sudden invasion of her personal space rattled her. All she could do was let out a breathy "yes" which sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

He took a sip of the hot liquid and almost spat it out.

"We've got to teach you the difference between coffee and whichever of your fancy teas you're poisoning me with this time."

"Black…walnut and ginger."

Her voice was still far too breathy for her own liking and she stepped away from him, needing the space to get herself together. She was a grown woman, for God's sake. Yet here she was, acting like a lovesick teenager and falling all over herself just because this man – her boss, no less – stood a little close or brushed his hand against hers. Glancing at him whilst trying to keep the heat from rising on her cheeks, she saw the smirk he was doing nothing to hide. He was enjoying this; it was like a game to him. Tormenting her and…her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. Did he believe she liked him too? Had he heard Foreman and Chase's _stupid_ ideas and believed them? Dropping a mortified gaze to the floor, she planned the fastest escape route. She couldn't be acting like this, she couldn't be having these…conflicting thoughts and doubting herself. Because she was married. _Happily _married.


	2. Chapter 2

**What If**

**Chapter Two – That's Why Home Life & Work Life Should Be Kept Separate**

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"Andrew! What…are you doing here? I don't finish work for another six hours."

Cameron couldn't decide whether she was happy to see her husband, or a little perturbed by his unexpected appearance. Taking their daughter off him, she greeted the little girl warmly, showering her with kisses as the child giggled and reveled in the attention.

Andrew smiled as he watched them for a moment before focusing on her question.

"Well, I had the afternoon off and Elle wanted to see her mommy doing what she does best – saving lives," he ruffled Elle's curly blonde hair and the little girl beamed at him, "So, I thought it'd be nice if we got to have lunch as a family for once."

Cameron forced a smile and levelled a careful gaze on her husband.

"But I don't finish for another six hours."

She repeated, wondering why he would suddenly decide to change the routine they'd finally managed to get into after the upheaval of a baby arriving eighteen months previous. She'd fiercely defended her marriage when Foreman and Chase interrogated her about apparent feelings for House, but lately their 'happy marriage' hadn't been so blissful. They'd been fighting for the past week over having another baby and tensions were running high at home. She didn't want to bring that to work. She tried very hard to keep her work life and her home life separate.

"Well, what's this? Little family gathering in the office? There are germs all over this place, Cameron. Wouldn't think you'd want such a precious little sprog exposed to that."

Cameron's jaw clenched as House's voice pierced the thickening atmosphere from behind her.

"And ease up, would you? That tension in your shoulders can't be good for your posture."

Andrew was eying House with wary suspicion. They'd never met before but he assumed this would be the infamous Dr. House he'd heard a lot about. Not from his wife, of course, because she tried very hard to keep work life and home life separate.

"You must be the husband. So, we finally get to meet. Cameron is always talking about you."

House smirked, slapping Andrew's shoulder in his most genial manner and Cameron almost winced. Even if Andrew couldn't, she was quite accustomed to his attitude and could feel the sarcasm radiating off every word he was saying, especially when it was so painfully obvious the man he was tormenting was oblivious to it. Instead, Andrew smiled warmly and raised his eyebrows in Cameron's direction.

"Really?"

He said, clearly pleased. Cameron fought the urge to turn away, knowing House was having far too much fun with this.

"No."

That blow was below the belt, with their relationship already turbulent and in need of no help from House. Andrew looked somewhere between confused and genuinely disheartened.

"So, why are you here? She's working. Our lobby art is very important to us, you know."

Hearing him describe her that way made Cameron shake her head in exasperation. Dropping his friendly – now clearly fake – persona, House kept a piercing gaze on Andrew, almost demanding an answer as though he'd done something wrong by showing up unannounced. And calling Cameron 'lobby art' only served to infuriate the younger man.

No longer feeling under obligation to be pleasant with his wife's boss, Andrew returned the unwavering stare.

"Because it's 12:30 and I'm pretty sure _my wife_ is entitled to a lunch hour. So I brought _our_ daughter as a pleasant surprise and we're going for lunch as a _family_."

The possessive pragmatics were not lost on House and he gave a small smirk.

"Bit of a possessive streak you got there. Might wanna go someplace outside the hospital if you want a _pleasant_ meal, because half of the male doctors in this place won't care that you're here – they'll still oggle your _lovely_ wife like they always do."

Cameron cut in before Andrew ended up landing a right hook to House's jaw.

"The testosterone in this room is killing me. Come on, Andy; please, let's just go. I'm taking my lunch hour now, House."

She addressed her boss over her shoulder, guiding her husband out of harm's way towards the door; Elle still perched on her hip.

As much as he tried not to, House couldn't help but watch her as she left. She looked so…in control of herself. She hadn't been working for him all that long and yet he'd developed a kind of attachment to her already. He hated that. He'd never really thought about her home life, or the fact that she had a ready-made, perfect little suburban family life outside of the hospital. It made him realize that he had to keep his hands off her. She was already somewhat damaged – he could see that much in her eyes – so he'd have to rely on that good ole' stubborn will-of-steel to keep himself from touching what was so clearly unattainable.

Scowling, he shuffled into his office and drew the blinds. He didn't want to think about Cameron having a husband, being totally out of his reach, but he knew that was all he was going to be able to think of for the rest of the afternoon at least. So it was better to shut himself away with his Vicodin and his GameBoy…for everyone's sake. _This_ was why she should just keep her home life and her work life separate!


	3. Chapter 3

**What If**

**Chapter Three – Unexpected But Kinda Maybe Not Totally Unwelcome**

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It was 2:54am and Cameron was just about to go to bed. Andrew had been asleep since midnight but Elle wouldn't settle and Cameron had stayed up with her for the best part of the evening, finally getting her to fall into a restless sleep at just gone 2:30am. Not the best night she'd ever had.

She and Andrew had made up over lunch and she'd finally got him to agree that maybe a baby so soon after having Elle wasn't such a hot idea. She loved being a mother, yes, but two in quick succession would zap every ounce of energy she had left, which wasn't much as it was.

So they'd gone home, made up properly whilst Elle had a play date with the neighbor's kids, and then went quickly back into their routine. Around dinnertime though, Elle was whining more than usual and wouldn't settle down after her bath like she usually would. She refused to eat and had a rattling cough developing. Dosing her with Tylenol, Cameron sat rocking the little girl late into the night and when she finally drifted off, the exhausted mother wanted to cry with relief.

Glancing at the clock and wincing as she saw how close to 3am it was – knowing she was on-call over the weekend really put a dampener on things – she practically crawled toward her bedroom. But the relief awaiting her in the form of sleep was snatched away when her cell phone started to vibrate on the mantel. Groaning, she reluctantly dragged herself across the living room and snatched the phone off the top.

"House?! Why the _hell_ are you calling me at 3am?! What can you possibly have thought was so damn important you had to call _now_?"

She was trying to keep her voice down, not daring to run the risk of waking Elle up after the night they'd had, but her temper wasn't quite as controlled as it was at civilized hours.

"You don't sound like you were asleep."

"I've been nursing Elle all night. I repeat:_ What. Do. You. Want_?"

There was a long pause over the line and if it weren't for the sound of drunken singing in the background, Cameron would have thought he'd hung up.

"Will you come pick me up?"

And that was when it took all of her self-control not to start yelling down the line at him for being such a selfish, stupid ass. Managing to just about calm herself enough to reply in a lowered voice, she measured her words carefully.

"You are ringing me at 3am on a Saturday morning to come pick you up from wherever the hell you are and you expect me to just come running? You've got some nerve, House. Andrew's asleep; I've _just _managed to get my daughter to sleep, and you have the audacity to call me, after the way you treated me today…and every other day come to think of it."

House didn't reply and again, the only cue that he was there was the background noise.

"And why can't Wilson come pick you up? He's probably used to these calls at ridiculous o'clock."

Again, a pause.

"House are you gonna-?"

"Wilson's not speaking to me."

Cameron rolled her eyes, dropping down onto the sofa with the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder. Pulling her knees up to her chest she shivered, the night air that permeated the room chilling her through the thin layer of Andrew's shirt she'd taken to using as nightwear. He loved this shirt on her, partially because it was his and partially because her eyes became a more pronounced green with the blue shirt accentuating them.

"What did you do to piss him off? There's obviously something, because he's practically a saint with what he puts up with from you."

She was getting a little fed up with the pauses after every question. Questions that she had a right to ask when he was asking such unreasonable things from her at 3am.

"He's…pissed because he says I'm self-destructing…"

"And why would that be different tonight than any other night when you're self-destructing? It's kinda one of your personality traits; you'd think he'd have figured that one by now."

"You're way too chatty for this time in a morning."

"And yet, _you_ called _me_."

Ignoring her retort, House sighed.

"I broke up with Stacy. Wilson said I don't know what's good for me and I always try to break things that are perfectly fine the way they are."

Cameron wasn't sure how to reply to that. And she wasn't sure what knocked her off balance more – the fact that he'd broken up with Stacy so suddenly (though if she thought about it, it wasn't really that sudden) or the fact that he was openly telling her this, not bothering to wrap it in sugared sarcasm with a caustic cherry on top.

"I'm…sorry."

"Don't be. Would you just…come pick me up?"

Pressing her fingers to her throbbing temple, Cameron heaved a sigh.

"Where are you?"

She'd known she'd end up going for him. As much as she kicked and fought against it, she always ended up giving into him. She was like his female Wilson. And she hated it. But it was just who she was and she had reluctantly come to accept she probably wouldn't ever change. And neither would House. So they were stuck in this rut.

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"Nice ensemble."

He clearly wasn't as intoxicated as he had been when he'd decided to call her at 3am and Cameron just rolled her eyes as he clambered awkwardly into the passenger seat of her car. It was now 4:05am. She'd left him to sober up for an hour before setting off; making sure Elle and Andrew both remained asleep. She was still wearing Andrew's blue shirt but had pulled on some old navy sweatpants too, her hair loose around her face, which gave away only a tiny fraction of the exhaustion her whole body was buzzing with.

"Yeah well, just be grateful I picked you up at all. Do you know what this could do to my marriage if Andrew wakes up and finds me gone and then finds out I drove all the way across town to pick you and your sorry ass up off the sidewalk?"

"Yeah well, he needs to get over that possessive streak of his."

"He's my husband, House! He has every right to be suspicious if I'm going out at this time in a morning to pick my boss up from some seedy bar!"

With that half-adorable, half-infuriating smirk, House chose not to comment and instead watched her as she pulled into the lane of sparse traffic, heading for apartment 221B.

"That blue actually does wonders for your eyes."

He was slurring slightly but Cameron had a feeling he was putting it on a little. He knew he'd get away with more – tormenting, flirting, sly remarks – if he couldn't be held fully accountable for lack of inhibitions.

"You can't see my eyes, it's dark."

She countered, glancing in her mirror and swinging a left around a rather sharp corner, causing House to lurch forward a little and scowl at her.

"Sorry."

"You're lucky you're cuter than Wilson or I'd have some really mean comments for that. I think I'll call you more often to come pick me up – nice having someone easy on the eyes to look at for the journey."

She gave him a falsely saccharine smile, which held a very clear warning that she would not look kindly upon him making this a regular thing and then they lapsed into an undemanding silence. She had to admit that when he wasn't being a complete jerk, she kinda liked spending time with him. They didn't have to speak – and she usually preferred it when they didn't – but there was a comfortable ease they fell into when no one else was around to taint it.

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The rest of the ten-minute drive to his place was taken in silence, with the occasional exchange of unintentional glances, when they both quickly looked away. When she finally pulled up outside the large Georgian-style apartment building there was silence of a few prolonged moments before she turned to him, about to pry into what had finally broken his relationship with Stacy.

But she didn't have a chance to say any more than a few words before his mouth was covering hers, his hand cupping her cheek and gently – surprisingly gently – his fingers trailed to her neck, barely touching where her pulse was racing.

She was too shocked to react at first and before she realized what she was doing, she'd kissed him back. She could taste to scotch on his lips and the sharp, almost bitter taste of him stinging her tongue as his swept past her lips. A hand on his chest from the defensive action as he'd lunged for her, she found herself gripping the material of his shirt in a small fist, her heart racing and her mind in overdrive as she tried to process what exactly was happening. His free hand was already under her shift – Andrew's shirt – now and skimming the smooth, flat surface of her stomach, her muscles clenching with his ghost of a touch.

Regaining her senses abruptly, she pulled away from him and tore his hand from under the shirt as if he'd scalded her, pushing him away in a panic. Her lips were well kissed and she was breathless, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and shock. She opened her mouth to speak, to demand that he get out of her car, but no words would pass her lips. The lips he'd just well and truly ravaged, leaving her both craving more and wishing she'd never gone to pick him up in the first place.

She sat silently in a daze for endless seconds before the sound of the passenger door opening and the slight shift as he climbed out of the car brought her back to reality once more. She watched him go, tears blurring her vision. This was too much to take in. He'd kissed her. And she'd let him.

Her wedding ring was taunting her now, torturing her as she replayed what had just taken place. He'd shut his front door behind him without looking back and the tears were suddenly rolling down her cheeks. She'd never cheat on Andrew; she just wasn't the cheating kind. But what was that? What had she just done? If she'd thought she could explain this little trip out as completely innocent, just helping her boss when he'd asked, she was surely mistaken now. That would have been all true…until about five minutes ago.

There was _nothing_ innocent about that kiss, and all the way home – after nearly crashing twice – she was replaying it in her mind, fighting a fresh onslaught of tears. He'd broken up with Stacy and now he was slowly beginning to destroy her marriage.

Yet there was something in that kiss…a passion and lust that she'd been somehow missing for a long time in her relationship with Andrew. Maybe it was _because_ it was forbidden that it tasted that much sweeter – though it was more bittersweet really – and maybe that was why she'd given in to him like she had…why she'd kissed back.


	4. Chapter 4

**What If**

**Chapter Four – Damage is Done with Secrets and Lies**

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House had sat at his piano playing idle notes and thinking of her for the rest of the night, until the sun began to force its rays through the crack in the curtains. This is why he didn't get involved in stupid affairs of the heart. He hated his mind being preoccupied with anything other than an interesting medical case or General Hospital.

And now he was stuck with her on his mind, wondering what had made him do something as stupid as kiss her. It had been an impulsive action. He'd been intoxicated and that was his excuse. Of course, the hour she'd made him wait before she picked him up had certainly sobered him up and the impulse to taste those lips was undeniably strong the moment he'd caught sight of her in that blue shirt.

She'd looked exhausted, but now he was thinking that, bizarrely, it was a good look on her. Without make up and without her wits about her she was even more beautiful because she couldn't hide her feelings like she usually could. She was open and real, emotions – far too many of them – on display and ripe for the mocking. Yet he hadn't mocked her. He'd kissed her. And she'd most certainly kissed him back. He could still feel the heat of her small hand pressing against his chest, tightening into a fist, as he'd found his way under that shirt. He could still taste the coffee and cherry on his lips, a flavor he'd become addicted to the second he'd tasted it. Her skin had been so soft and warm he'd been sure he was running his fingers over silk. The tiny mewl of surprise she'd elicited as he'd lunged at her and claimed her lips had only driven him on further. He was well aware that the consequences were going to far outweigh the benefits of his actions, but at that moment, it was the opposite way round and, in fact, consequences didn't exist. All that mattered was her and she was kissing him back.

As soon as he'd taken in what she was wearing, he'd immediately been struck by the image of her padding through his apartment wearing _his_ blue shirt and nothing else, rather than her _husband's_ blue shirt and sweatpants. He'd chosen to ignore any aspects of her husband she was carrying – the ring, the shirt – and a dangerous sensation of jealousy had tightened in his stomach. That was partly what had induced the feral urge to kiss her. It was the primitive need to mark her, to claim her as his own.

He wondered how she'd be coping with the fallout and shook his head. When did he ever think of how other people were feeling? Grabbing his cane, he unsteadily found his balance as he pushed himself to standing. Popping two Vicodin before dropping the bottle back onto the piano top, he limped toward the bathroom, intent on showering away these new thoughts and feelings he considered very unpleasant and certainly not welcome.

But by the time he was clothed again, he was craving the alcohol that had slowly detoxed out of his system. He'd sobered up completely as he'd kissed her, but now he needed the alcohol again to forget that horrified look on her face when she'd realized what they'd done, to forget the fact that she was someone else's, to forget _her_.

He was mumbling out loud to himself, humming along self-pityingly to the music in his head. He seemed to have a knack for this – first he'd managed to find reason to break up with Stacy. That was pretty easy considering the escalating rows they'd been having, and he'd felt a sense of relief wash over him as he'd sat alone in their empty apartment. _His_ empty apartment now. But it had taken him an evening of drinking to fully accept why he'd _really_ broken up with Stacy. Ok, he'd been telling the truth when he'd said he didn't love her anymore so they should just quit whilst they were ahead. But it hadn't been the _whole_ truth. He wasn't in love with Stacy anymore because all he could think of was a certain young, beautiful (_married_) immunologist who had captured his imagination as well as his feelings from the moment he'd hired her.

For six months he'd watched her, toyed with her, and challenged her. And she'd responded by turning a blind eye, accepting his games and stepping up to every challenge he set. Yet there was a sad kind of melancholy hidden behind her bright, startlingly stunning surface. There was that _something_ in her eyes that he not just wanted, but _needed_ to figure out. He found himself suddenly thinking about her at the most inauspicious, indiscriminate moments. He'd be asleep with Stacy in his arms yet he was thinking of Cameron, musing on whatever small incident had occurred that day and wondering how he could push her even further, wondering how far that line could be crossed before she'd snap.

But it didn't matter now if he thought about her, because Stacy was gone and he had endless lonely, drunken nights ahead of him. Songs reminded him of her and that was the one thing that drove him crazy, because he couldn't switch off if his mind was concentrating on something…_someone_. Music was his outlet, but if she inhabited even that private, segregated part of his life, he was in real trouble.

Because he simply couldn't have her. Not just because she was already someone else's, but also because part of him didn't really _want_ to have her. If he could hold her at a distance – look but not touch – then he was safe. Or more importantly, _she_ was safe. Just look what he'd done to Stacy.

Over five years he'd worn her down, broken her spirit and left her a far more bitter and cynical version of herself. Back when they'd first entered into a relationship – though neither had dared to name it so right away until everyone else did it for them – she'd been tactful and ambitious with all optimism and light shining from her. But when she finally walked away from him, five long years later, she'd lost her spark. She was no longer the sweet – well, as sweet as a lawyer could be – and vivacious young woman she had been. She was almost as scathing with words as he was, she could slice at open wounds with the sharp end of what she'd say and not give a damn. He'd done that to her. And the thought of Cameron losing her nauseating niceness unnerved and deterred him enough to second guess his apparent need for her in his life. She'd be better off with that _charming_ husband of hers than with him.

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"Allison? Hey, Allison? Wake up, sweetie."

Cameron's eyes drifted open to find Andrew looking down at her with a concerned expression on his face. She blinked a few times, wondering when it had suddenly become so bright in the living room…and why she was asleep _in _the living room. It took a moment or so before she remembered the events of the early hours and she immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to look her husband in the face. But that only served to increase his worry.

"Al, you look like crap, maybe you should take the day off – ring in sick…why did you sleep on the sofa?"

She couldn't take everything in so soon after she'd been dragged out of a surprisingly restful sleep so she just nodded absently.

"Allison…are you feeling ok?"

She looked up at him and saw the apprehension in his eyes…and her heart broke just a little bit.

"Yeah…I'm just a little tired. Elle wouldn't settle until 3am so I was up with her, plus the shifts from hell I just finished. I sat down for a minute and…I guess I fell asleep."

She couldn't exactly tell him what had happened, and she was startled at how easily the lie slipped from her lips. He looked satisfied by her answer and leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her lips. It only served to make her feel guiltier than she already did. Forcing a smile she hoped was convincing she slipped away from him with the premise of going for a shower. Once again he accepted it without question.

"I'll make you some breakfast. You'd waste away if I didn't make you eat, Al."

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Locking the bathroom door, she let herself slide slowly to the cold tiles, her back against the door and her head in her hands, knees pulled up so she was as small as she could possibly be. If she'd just lied to him so easily…how far could this go? He needn't ever find out what had happened less than three hours earlier, because there would never be a repeat of that forbidden kiss. Nor anything like it. She'd make sure she was on her guard around House at all times now…though she had to admit, sometimes she had no control over it when his intense gaze would leave her in somewhat of a daze, trying to straighten her thoughts before someone noticed. She'd always been very good at controlling her feelings and her vices. So what was going wrong now?

If this didn't stop right now, before it had a chance to really turn into _something_, then she knew it was only a matter of time until they were going to start spinning in circles. And she couldn't lie to Andrew again like she just had done. She'd find herself drowning in the lies before long, and she never had been a very good liar…until now at least.

Dragging herself wearily to her feet, barely any energy left, she switched on the shower and dropped to sitting on the edge of the bath, running a hand through her hair. She couldn't stop thinking about House and that in itself scared her. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to push him from her mind. That was the only way this could work. Denial was a beautiful thing. If she just denied to herself it ever happened then she'd find convincing everyone else that much easier.

Tugging off Andrew's shirt and kicking off the sweatpants she stepped into the shower and sighed as the hot water cascaded over her body, washing away the remnants of his touch still lingering on her skin. She stood perfectly still under the water for endless minutes, imagining that she could feel his touch and every feeling she had for him swirling down the drain with the water.

Her thoughts drifted back to their encounter yet again, no matter how hard she tried to eliminate it from her mind. She hated the fact that just by thinking about it, tingles swept right through her body, making her toes curl and tears of frustration prick her eyes.

A short, sharp knock on the door jolted her from these conflicting emotions and Andrew's voice drifted through the wood.

"Al, is everything ok in there?"

It took her a moment to find her voice.

"Yeah, fine."

There was a pause and she could hear that concern back in his voice again.

"Ok, well…you've been in there for almost thirty minutes now."

"Shit."

She swore under her breath and her eyes widened. She immediately shut off the water, hardly believing his words. As she did so, the cold instantly hit her body and she shivered, groping around on the rail for a towel and quickly wrapping it around her.

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When she emerged from the bathroom, body flushed from the hot water and then the sudden contrast of cold air, she gave Andrew an uncomfortable smile. He had that look on his face. It was the one he'd worn for about a week when her behaviour had been quite irrational almost two years ago now. That expression had turned to utter delight when she'd revealed she was pregnant and _that_ was the reason she'd been acting differently. If he knew what the cause of her change in behaviour was this time, she was sure it wouldn't be such a happy occasion for him. Or her. Or anyone.

"I made you breakfast. It's a little cold now."

With that he disappeared into their bedroom and she could tell he was trying to mask his concern. She hated that. They'd lapse into long silences where neither would know what to say to ease the awkward tension. Then there'd be a confrontation and things would go back to normal. They were used to married life now. After eight years of marriage they knew each other pretty well. And that kind of scared her. He could read her very well, could always tell when something was wrong. And she was terrified of him reading _this_, the something that she desperately needed to hide.

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Hoping to successfully avoid any confrontation with House for at least a day, she took Andrew's advice and called in sick. She spent the day cleaning the apartment, taking her mind off the current situation she was in. Andrew was at work and Elle was in Daycare so she had the apartment to herself. Yet, for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, she was on edge all day. Obsessive cleaning to relieve stress was a habit she'd picked up from her mother. Whenever she and her siblings would come home from school to find the house immaculate, they knew to keep out of the way. As she grew older and left for college, she found the stress-relieving cleaning ritual to be very effective.

Right now, the technique was really helping her to take her mind of it all and she'd managed to not think about House or what had happened for a good part of the morning. And every time her thoughts returned to him and what had happened between them, she came to analyze the 'incident' as quite minor, considering what indiscretions she knew went on in some marriages. It had just been a kiss, and it hadn't been her fault. She'd pushed him away when she'd realized what was happening, so she couldn't be held responsible for House's actions. Especially when her boss had such a reputation for destroying people's relationships. Wilson and Cuddy were great examples of that. She knew for sure, even thought nobody had ever said anything, that Wilson's marriages had all failed because of something House had said or done, or he'd at least been involved in some way.

A knock on the door at just gone noon made Cameron's heart skip a beat and she almost prayed that it wasn't _him_. She couldn't face him yet, no matter how well she'd convinced herself she was not a guilty party in what had happened. She certainly couldn't face him _alone_. At work, with Chase and Foreman around, she would feel a little better about being in his presence. After all, he wouldn't be trying anything in front of them. He was very careful to maintain his "I don't have a personal life so don't discuss it" façade, so he surely wouldn't blow that cover simply to make her squirm. At least, she hoped not.

Looking through the peephole, she saw someone she certainly hadn't been expecting to see and opened the door quickly in surprise.

"Wilson…what are you doing here?"

She wasn't even sure how Wilson had known where she lived, never mind the fact that he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the day. He looked awkward and not at all like his usual laid-back self stood there outside her apartment.

"Could I come in?"

She moved aside to let him in and he thanked her, stepping inside and commenting on the décor of the hallway. It was small talk, she could tell, but she thanked him in return nevertheless. Really, she was intrigued by his presence and had a sinking feeling it had something to do with House. A horrible thought struck her and made her heart speed up a little. House couldn't possibly have told Wilson about the little rendezvous…could he?

"Can I know what this is about?"

She asked carefully, leading him into the living room and trying to keep her voice steady.

"Wait, before you answer that, do you want a drink?"

Wilson smiled a little and nodded; possibly grateful for the diversion too, she couldn't tell.

"A coffee would be great, thanks. Milk and no sugar, please."

She disappeared into the kitchen, calling for him to make himself at home and relieved for the few minutes to gather herself as she made both of them a coffee. When she returned, he was perched on the sofa, a definite tension in his shoulders. And she knew instantly it was about the kiss.

Handing him the coffee, she dropped down onto the comfy chair adjacent to the sofa and sighed, keeping her gaze trained assiduously on the coffee as she gently swirled it.

"I…think you know what I'm here about."

Her shoulders dropped and she knew that the conscientious effort to put it all out of her mind would be crumbling in a matter of seconds.

"He told you, didn't he?"

Wilson paused a moment before nodding and she ran a hand over her face in despair.

"He didn't turn up at the hospital this morning – which, ok, doesn't sound unusual, but Cuddy was furious – so she sent me around to 'fetch' him, as she so gracefully put it. He was barely conscious," at this news Cameron's eyes widened in alarm, "he'd drank himself into such a state that I could barely make out what he was saying. And I've become an expert at deciphering his drunken rambles after all these years."

He paused and took a sip of coffee. Cameron's hand was covering her mouth and she'd lost all interest in staring down her own drink.

"I-is he alright?"

She asked, concern laced with caution edging her voice.

"Well he's in pretty deep crap with Cuddy but he's sobering up as we speak. I took all the bottles of scotch out of his apartment – so if any cops pull me over I'm gonna have some serious explaining to do as to why I have so many bottles of the stuff in the trunk."

He smiled ruefully and Cameron almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. How had they come to this? She was scared of going to work to face him and he was drinking himself into a coma.

"Did he…say anything about why he did it?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow and she dropped her gaze very quickly to her drink. That was a yes then.

"What did he say? Do I want to know?"

Again, another pause from Wilson.

"He was babbling on about how he wanted you and it wasn't fair that you didn't want him, and how he would never have you if you were with "Andy-rew" – I'm assuming that's your other half - but your marriage was crappy as it was so what did it matter if he helped it along in falling apart. And he said he'd 'taint' you anyway, so you were better off without him as it was. I'm sorry for that, I thought I should apologize for him in advance, for whatever he says to you at work."

Mortified, she covered her face with her hands and shook her head vehemently.

"M-my marriage is _fine_. Or at least it was until _he_ acted so damn selfishly and decided he'd ruin the only good thing that's ever kept me going!"

Her voice was high and she barely even recognized it herself. It worried her that she needed to defend her marriage so fiercely not just to Wilson but also to herself.

"Cameron, I'm not questioning your marriage. I believe you love your husband and he loves you, you don't need to defend it to me. It's none of my business. And I can't exactly talk, with my track record," he smiled regretfully and she felt bad for him, "I'm just here to let you know that if you need to talk about things…I'm not just here for House to vent to. I'm a pretty good listener, y'know. So…if you ever need to talk…"

She gave him a grateful smile, appreciating the offer of a friendly ear that she didn't doubt she'd be using over the next few weeks, if things in work were as tense as she expected them to be.

"Did he say anything else?"

She needed to know how to play it when she went back to work the next day. She'd feel more comfortable and less anxious about facing him if she had some kind of strategy.

Wilson looked distinctly uncomfortable and Cameron wondered if she really wanted to know what House had said. Part of her wanted to plead ignorance and take back that question, warning her no good would come from knowing how House's mind was working right now, but the curious, doctor part of her was intrigued, as well as nervous about what that look had just meant.

"Cameron…"

"I need to know."

It seemed as though Wilson was weighing up whether or not to tell her and she knew that surely couldn't be a good omen.

"He was just…rambling."

"About _what_?"

"About the kiss, about…you in general. It's not exactly G-rated, Cameron."

She felt her face flush instantly and the part of her that had wanted to stay blissfully unaware was now whispering, "Told you so".

"Oh."

That was the only word she could come up with and she tried to find somewhere to settle her gaze, an uncomfortable silence settling over them. She had a feeling that wasn't what he'd been reluctant to tell her though, so she lifted her eyes to meet his again, and it didn't take him long to break.

"He told me…that you were the reason he finally broke up with Stacy."

Her mouth dropped open and she managed a few stuttered words ending simply with an expletive, before lapsing into silence. A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"H-he's not going to try a stunt like that again though, is he? No matter how he…'feels'…You two have made up, so he won't be calling me at 3am to pick him up again, will he?"

The alarm in her voice, the near panic, seemed to startle Wilson and he could see how much the little incident had upset her. Though he had a feeling it wasn't entirely to do with the effect it would have on her marriage or the fact that she'd been the reason he'd broken up with Stacy. He sensed, underneath it all, there was something she wasn't acknowledging, some kind of hidden feelings she was keeping buried deep down and hoping nobody could see. But he was extremely good at reading people.

He'd known straight away when he'd first witnessed House and Cameron together that his best friend would be in over his head before long. Just the way his eyes would linger on her when she was oblivious, or when he leaned a little too close to her whilst looking at a file, or the way his features, usually so defined and severe, softened a fraction when she smiled at him. Little things really. Nobody else other than someone who knew House better than he knew himself would have noticed these things. But Wilson was very receptive to them and he was almost absolutely, practically positively sure things were going to get very complicated before long, with so many feelings floating around, untethered and extremely explosive.


	5. Chapter 5

**What If**

**Chapter Five – Fighting Feelings with Catastrophic Consequences**

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After a day of sick leave Cameron knew that avoiding House wasn't going to do either of them any good. Plus, she was getting tetchy and bored just sitting at home and was sure that if Andrew knew how many times she'd gone out running in one day he'd get his concerned face again. She ran when she was stressed and she ran when she had too much on her mind to think about. But she also ran when she was simply bored. Due to her disjointed behavior that morning she knew he wouldn't buy the "I really was just bored!" line.

So as the alarm clock announced its six thirty wake-up call, she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, filled partly with dread and partly with anticipation for what the day would bring. House didn't know Wilson had told her everything, so if she acted like she was blissfully unaware of his sweeping confessions, then it would be easier for everyone involved. House would no doubt feel cornered if he knew she was aware of his feelings for her. And it would probably cause a lot of friction between him and Wilson too, so she was better just keeping her mouth shut.

Andrew had tried to persuade her to take another day off because she "still wasn't herself" but she gently yet firmly assured him she was fine. She knew he was expecting her to suddenly break down and blurt out she was pregnant or something, due to her distracted and distant behavior, like she had when she'd told him she was pregnant with Elle. But it wasn't going to happen this time.

"I'll see you later."

She managed a sunny smile and attentive kiss as well as a cuddle with Elle before she left for work that morning. She could tell he was still suspicious that something was amiss by the slight frown on his face as he and Elle waved her off at the door.

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A sort of relief washed over her as she drove away from the house, leaving the suffocating confines behind her. Wilson's words from the afternoon before were going over and over in her head, but she knew she had to get rid of them before she got to the hospital.

House could read people disturbingly well and she'd be given away the second she walked through the door if she was still being haunted by them. He'd take one look in her eyes and know; she didn't doubt it. That scared her somewhat, because things could get a hell of a lot more complicated if this all blew up.

She hadn't been in the office half an hour when House turned up. Chase and Foreman hadn't turned in yet and she was more than surprised House was within 100 yards of the hospital at 9:00am. But she was also kind of relieved…it could have been more than awkward if her co-workers were privy to this...whatever it was between them.

"Cameron…"

He said as way of greeting, giving an almost imperceptible nod and making a beeline for his office. She knew now was the best time to get the impending conversation out of the way, when she wasn't accompanied by the guys. He wasn't going to be willing to talk about it; she knew that much, but for both of their sakes it had to be dealt with. Otherwise it'd only build up and cause tension between them. She desperately didn't want that, and she wasn't sure why it mattered so much to her…

"House…I think we need to-"

"Wow, fifteen seconds, I'm impressed. Figured you'd be in here before I even had chance to sit down."

She levelled a steady gaze on him, knowing full well he was going to do all he could to avoid talking about feeling, and she wasn't willing to back down.

"We need to talk."

When he didn't reply, she walked closer to his desk, awkwardly wondering if she should sit down or stay standing or…pace? No matter, it wasn't going to change what had to be said, so she sat down, nerves running through her and causing her to knot her fingers together in anticipation.

"Wilson came to see me last night."

House's head shot up and their eyes met for a moment, before his surprised expression was quickly replaced with the usual vacant nonchalance he carefully maintained.

"Nobody likes a snitch."

He said flatly, scowl on his face as he held her eye contact unwaveringly. She had to fight the undeniable urge to back down, to just let this go and retreat to safer topics. But she couldn't.

"He told me I'm the reason you broke up with Stacy. That's not true…is it?"

She was hoping for him to deny it, to mock her for 'flattering herself' and laugh her out of his office. But the silence that remained between them made her stomach twist into knots. It was true. What Wilson had told her, it was all true. And it was almost too much to take. But she'd had all last night for it to sink in, so she managed to keep control of herself.

"Cameron…"

"You _cannot_ put this on me, House. I won't let you destroy my marriage, and my life along with it. I love my husband."

"Yeah and if you keep telling yourself that then maybe you'll be able to convince _yourself_ as well as me."

She opened her mouth to reply but she couldn't find her voice. He'd struck a nerve. He knew it, judging by the look on his face. Anger coursed through her. How dare he look _pleased_ when he'd just torn open a tender wound she thought she'd managed to hide well. She _did_ love her husband; it just wasn't like it used to be. She didn't get butterflies when he kissed her anymore and she desperately wished she did. She desperately wished this wasn't spiraling out of control right before her eyes.

She stood up suddenly, knocking the chair backwards, and he looked up at her, never letting his gaze waver, challenging her. Landing a stinging slap to his cheek, a flush creeping over her own, she left hastily. She should have known he'd pull the right strings to break her.

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She'd barely been in the women's restroom three minutes when he was stood at the door. His jaw was tensed and she faltered slightly. She'd slapped her boss, hard. And in the lists of "How to Keep Your Job", that did not appear anywhere. He looked pissed, righteously so. But there was something else there too.

In all honesty, the disbelief he'd felt wash over him as the air settled following her hasty exit had been replaced with a mixture of anger and arousal. The way she'd flushed and been at a loss for words…he loved seeing her like that. He loved winding her up, just to let her go. He'd made her stumble and act impulsively, which was kind of a turn on to him.

"Most people around here would get fired if they slapped their boss like that."

He commented, the gravelly quality of his voice making her retreat slightly. He continued to move closer though, until he was towering over her, so close he could smell her perfume. As though she wasn't intoxicating enough to him. She refused to look up at him, keeping her head bowed. Most likely she was frightened of a repeat performance of their forbidden kiss if she raised her eyes.

He always got what he wanted, but she was more of a challenge than he was used to. If he wanted Cuddy, there was nothing to stop him. She'd give in, he knew that. But Cameron was a bit of a mystery – the sadness in her eyes he longed to figure out – and she was unattainable. That was definitely part of the attraction. But he could see there was a spark between them and that's why he'd resolved not to back down.

He'd struggled with himself and stayed awake all night thinking about her. If he broke that small piece of perfection – though he knew she was far from perfect – he wasn't sure he'd forgive himself. It actually terrified him because he never usually worried about feeling guilty for anything, certainly not for hurting other people. But what had really held him back was the idea that _she_ might hurt _him_. If she broke his heart, would he ever trust another person with it? As much as he put on the façade, he didn't _really_ want to spend his life alone.

"What do you want from me?"

Her voice was soft, tentative, with nervousness lacing the edges and causing her to tremble slightly, he could see. His proximity was unnerving her. But that's how he liked it. He pushed her to the limit until she reacted on impulse, until she hit out – though it wasn't _usually_ in the literal sense – and he figured out a little more of her puzzle each time.

"Why would you think I want something from you?"

She looked up at him sharply, confusion evident in her expression. And he took that opportunity to crash his lips down to hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss like the first had been. This was rough and demanding with lots of tongue, his stubble stinging her cheek. She'd cried out in surprise into the kiss, but she didn't push him away. The desire for him that had been building up since the last time was taking over her and she hated herself for being unable to control this. It was terrifyingly confusing, both arousal and guilt coursing through every inch of her. They were in a very public place – anyone could walk into the women's restroom and find them – but that only spurred on her primal urge to keep his lips connected with hers.

She tried to weakly tell him to stop. She didn't have the strength (or, partly, the inclination) to push him away herself so she prayed he would do the right thing. Tears were filling up behind her closed eyes and she felt her back hit something solid. Opening her eyes quickly, she found he'd maneuvered them into a stall and her heart skipped. She _couldn't_ let this go any further. Pulling back from him, she brought her fingers to her lips and dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Why did you do that?"

"Why did you kiss back?"

He replied instantly, as though he'd been expecting that question. She blinked back tears. She couldn't answer that question. She didn't know why she'd kissed him back, and why the desire to kiss him again was already making her heart speed up even more. She turned slightly, physically breaking the ability for it to happen so easily.

"Just answer me, House. For once in your life answer a simple question honestly."

He looked as though he was on the verge of doing so after a long few moments, but the sound of the restroom door opening broke the moment.

"House? House, I know you're in here, the janitor gave you away. Why the hell are you in the women's restroom?"

House closed his eyes in exasperation as his best friend's voice bounced off the four walls that trapped them in. This was not going to be easy to explain. Cameron's expression was of pure horror and mortification as she covered her face with her hands.

"I want some _alone_ time, okay? Is that too much for a man to ask?"

House put on an overly-dramatic tone, avoiding the question as he tried to come up with reasons why he and Cameron would be in a stall together. It was made considerably harder by the fact that Wilson knew what was going on between House and Cameron, or at the least, he was aware of the sexual tension and the predicament they were in.

"I dread the answer to this but…is Cameron with you?"

"No, why would she be?"

House replied, a little too quickly and Cameron sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, head in her hands. She heard Wilson sigh on the other side of the door.

"Quit the games, ok? You're messing with her and it's for no other reason than to entertain yourself. She's _married_ and that actually means something to her. You might think it's a load of crap but give her a break, ok?"

House turned, raised eyebrow and challenging smirk on his face, to look at Cameron who felt the guilt multiply by a hundred. Wilson was right. Her marriage did mean something to her. So why did House seem to wipe all that away just by standing too close? How could he make her doubt her love for Andrew just by kissing her? It was frightening.

"I'm not leaving until you come out."

Wilson said defiantly when House remained quiet.

House and Cameron exchanged glances before he reluctantly reached for the latch of the stall and he stepped out to face his best friend. Wilson instantly peered into the stall and looked mildly shocked when he saw Cameron there.

House couldn't bring himself to meet Wilson's accusatory glare. He clearly blamed him for Cameron's current complicated situation, which was fair enough. But _she'd kissed back_. So much for the pretty picture of a perfect marriage she seemed to like to paint.

"It's not just House's fault."

Cameron said softly, finding it hard to look up at Wilson. She didn't want to see the disappointment there. Out of everyone, he trusted her not to be led astray, to fall for House and cheat on her husband. She had too much compassion and empathy; she felt the guilt too keenly. Yet somehow House made her want to forgo and forget consequences, to seize the moment. He gave her the butterflies she was missing in her marriage. But it was no excuse. She'd made a promise when she'd married Andrew. And this marked the end of it. She'd give up her job if she had to. If transferring to the other side of the country would end this viscous circle, then so be it.

"I-I…have to go."

She didn't even wait to hear what they had to say – in all honesty she didn't want to hear it – and was out of the door and down the corridor within seconds. She needed space to think about all this. If he was going to put her in that kind of situation, she needed out. But she needed to talk to Andrew about the possibility of moving away first…and that would involve horrible confessions coming to light.

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When she got home Andrew was still at work. The quiet of an empty home was comforting, but at the same time terrifying. This is what it could be like if all this went wrong. If she continued down the road she was on…she'd end up alone, she was sure of that. She'd lose Andrew, the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she'd never forgive herself enough to let House into her life again. This wouldn't only affect her life though. She had Elle to think about in this equation too.

House didn't want that kind of baggage, she was sure. His selfish desires only figured her into it, ignoring the fact that she was a mother and wife. He didn't care who got hurt, she'd seen that in practice, so there was no way he'd have thought about what this would mean for their situation if it all blew up, right?

Sitting down on the sofa, she allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts. Usually it was dangerous territory she tended to stay away from. Too much thinking and dwelling never ended well and she'd just hate herself more when the gravity of the predicament settled in.

After about half an hour, there was a knock on the door and her heart skipped a few beats. She prayed it was Andrew, not wanting to face House, or Wilson for that matter, right now. So, as quietly as possible, she made her way to the door and peered through the peephole. House was stood there tapping his cane impatiently and she closed her eyes in frustration, pleading silently that he would turn and leave.

"Cameron, sweetheart," he said with as much sarcasm as he could possibly muster, "I know you're in there."

Feeling the anxiety that was becoming far too familiar far too fast, her hands clenched and unclenched. Waiting a few minutes and holding her breath, she looked again and saw him still stood there, a defiant and determined look on his face. He wasn't going to leave. And she was here alone, far too vulnerable for her own liking after the earlier incident.

"Go away, House. I don't want to talk to you right now."

She said through the door, loud enough for him to hear clearly, whilst watching his reaction.

"You've proven you can't resist me, you know you're going to end up letting me in. So why bother putting this off?"

His words stung because she knew he was right. If she was going to open the door to him though, she needed distance. She was still far too raw and conflicted in regards to her feelings for him.

Stalling a few more seconds and trying to stead her shaking hands, she unlatched the door and opened it, stepping back to put some much-needed space between them as he pushed it open further with his cane.

"Such hospitality."

He smirked, shaking his head as he shut the door behind himself.

"You can't keep doing this. You can't put me in that position again, House, I mean it."

"You didn't seem to be complaining before. In fact, I distinctly remember you doing quite the opposite."

He smirked and she felt her cheeks flush. Turning away from him to hide her own embarrassment, she fought to regain her composure. She wouldn't do this any more, she kept telling herself over and over. She'd tell him he had to back off or she'd be gone before he realised what had happened.

"I-if you don't back off," she said shakily, hating herself for not sounding in the least bit sure of herself, "I'll leave. It's not a threat, it's a promise. I'm not just protecting myself here; I have my family to think about. You don't care about anyone's feelings but your own…but I do. You need to leave me alone."

She hoped that some of this was getting through to him, but as usual nothing was given away on his face. He was far too good at keeping his thoughts and feelings hidden.

"What if I don't want to?"

He asked as he closed the space she'd managed to put between them. She backed up, shaking her head firmly. She wouldn't let him control this situation. This was her turf.

"I don't care what you want, this isn't just about you. I'm not yours and I'm not _going_ to be yours. I don't care what you think of my marriage either, because it's none of your business. I love Andrew, despite what you may think. And I don't need you coming in here and trying to destroy it all, like you always do."

There was a smirk tugging at his lips and it infuriated her. Did he think this was a joke? Did he think her words really meant so little and she'd just do as he wanted regardless? He was wrong. He was closer to her now but she was fighting the desire he created so easily. Her will-power was stronger than he realized when she put her mind to something.

His hands were on her shoulders and he was trying to psych her out, to find the weakness in her and get her to break in his hands. She clenched her jaw and stared straight back at him, almost a challenge to try it, because she _would_ fight him. She wasn't going to let him ruin her marriage.

Trailing his hands down her arms painfully slowly, she couldn't stop the cold bumps from rising at his touch, but she still kept her expression neutral and unaffected. He was leaning closer but she refused to move. His lips were so close and he was daring her to kiss him, tormenting her in the fact he didn't believe she could resist him. But he was mistaken. Her lips tightened into a thin line and she glared coldly back at him, ignoring the delicious sensations his closeness was creating in her stomach. He let his lips ghost over hers, a kiss but not a kiss, and pulled her closer to him but she refused to respond, turning her head away from him and pushing her hands firmly against his chest.

But in the split second their lips had connected, the front door had opened and Andrew had walked in…stopping dead when he saw his wife and her boss in a somewhat…unprofessional position. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and his eyes traveled from House to Cameron quickly. She looked startled at his sudden entrance, which didn't help in the least.

"What the hell is going on?"

He asked, managing to keep his voice calm whilst all sorts of scenarios were rushing through his mind. What had he interrupted? Was this why Allison had seemed so distracted lately? Could it really be something completely innocent he'd walked in on, when he'd seen their kiss, with House's hands gripping her wrists and her looking so…guilty?

With her senses quickly returning, she wrenched her hands out of House's grip and turned away, furious with both House and herself that this was unraveling so chaotically already.

"Go on, _Allison_. Tell him this 'isn't what it looks like'. It was completely innocent, really."

The tone of House's voice and the smirk on his face did nothing to ease the tension in the room and Andrew looked accusingly at House.

"Get out. I don't care why you're here, just get out."

House shrugged, not bothering to look back at Cameron as he limped toward the door and passed Andrew without so much as a snarky comment. Tears were pricking at Cameron's eyes as she heard the door shut behind House. Her arms wrapped around herself, guilt and dread flooding every one of her senses, she kept her back to Andrew and stared straight out of the window.

The silence was almost unbearable.

"Are you gonna tell me what that was? 'Cause it sure as hell didn't look like ordinary employer-employee contact."

"Nothing is going on, Andrew. I swear to you, he likes playing games. He messes with people's lives for fun."

She replied weakly, closing her eyes and wishing none of this had ever happened, cursing herself for giving in and going to pick House up that fateful night.

"You expect me to believe that was 'nothing'? You were making out with him, Allison!"

She spun to face him, her cheeks glowing with shame and indignation.

"I was _not_, Andrew! _I_ did not kiss _him_!"

She realized as soon as the words passed her lips that she'd just made things worse. Her husband's eyes narrowed and he studied her carefully.

"So _he_ kissed _you_ then? Is that what you're saying? You're so completely innocent in all of this that you didn't push him away _before_ he kissed you?"

When she didn't reply, unable to lie to him like she had the day before, she simply dropped her gaze and allowed the guilt she knew she deserved to feel well up inside her.

"Have you slept with him too?"

He asked callously and she looked up at him sharply, horrified by the accusation.

"How dare you accuse me of that!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think, huh, Allison?"

His words stung and she couldn't believe all this was happening when just a week ago they were happy in their routine day-to-day life together.

"I…I wouldn't do that to you, you know that!"

"I'm not sure of anything now. Is Elle really mine, or is this affair a new thing?"

She wanted to land a sharp slap to her husband's face in that instant, but she reminded herself that he was the victim in this whole disaster. He was being irrational - there was no possible way Elle could be House's child and really he knew that. But the accusation was as painful as a knife in her gut.

"You're unbelievable! I can't believe you'd really ask that! I'm going to leave until you calm down, because I'm not going to discuss this with you when you're accusing me of things I haven't done."

She managed to keep her voice calm, which apparently only stirred the fury Andrew was feeling. As she made for the door, he cut her off and the rage in his eyes scared her a little bit. She knew he'd never hurt her, but she'd never seen that kind of anger in him before.

"You're going to go back to _him_, I'm not as stupid as you seem to think I am. Well, y'know what? Fine! Go to him! I'll just go and sleep with your sister again!"


	6. Chapter 6

Update is here, a little sooner than I'd expected, which is always a good thing :)  
As usual: I don't own House or Cameron unfortunately...you know what they'd be doing by now if I did! :P  
And MSWord and won't agree as to whether 'unthought-of' is a word or not.  
So I'm saying it is whilst those two kids battle it out :P

Enjoy!  
R&R please! Muchos appreciated!

Peace & Cheers  
Amylia  
-x-

**What If**

**Chapter Six – Drowning on Dry Land**

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When House opened the door, he wondered if he'd taken a few too many Vicodin and had started to hallucinate. On his doorstep, eyes red and tears staining her cheeks, a distressed child on her hip and a carry-chair in one hand, was Cameron. The permanent scowl on his face deepened as he took in her appearance. What the hell had happened after he'd left her house?

Stepping away from the door, he contained his endless curiosity for a few moments and let her in. She gratefully accepted the gesture and stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room, not really knowing what to say.

"Wanna start by telling me what that asshole did to you?"

Cameron didn't react like House had partly expected her to. He expected her to jump to her husband's defense and say it was in fact House's fault she'd been crying, not Andrew's. But she didn't.

"He slept with my sister."

That was enough to silence him and he hoped he wasn't gaping. He'd never seen Cameron's sister but he was certain that if he'd been the one to marry the woman currently stood in front of him, there'd be no way he'd even be tempted to be unfaithful…especially not with her _sister_. That was low, even by House's standards.

"Do you want a drink?"

He didn't really know what to say to smooth over the now-uneasy atmosphere around them. He wasn't good at being caring or supportive or any of the things she needed right now.

"Just water, please."

She replied, sitting down on the sofa with her daughter on her knee. The child was now drifting off to sleep in her mother's arms and sucking her thumb, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Cameron stared absently at the blank television screen, wondering what the hell she was going to do now that her marriage was in tatters.

House glanced back at her from the kitchen, noting the way her shoulders had dropped, as though the weight of the world was now on them. That spark in her he'd been so attracted to was fast fading and he couldn't bear to see it go out. The child in her arms was asleep and he saw her look down at her, tears once again starting to slide down her cheeks. She looked so…broken.

He'd felt the sting of being cheated on before, but it wasn't even an ounce of what he was sure she was feeling. In college, he'd walked in and caught his girlfriend in bed with one of the male cheerleaders. That had been a real blow to his ego. But he hadn't been married to her for nearly ten years and he certainly hadn't had a child with her. Those aspects of Cameron's situation were going to make it much harder and much more complicated.

Slowly making his way back into the living room, he handed her the glass of water, sitting down at the other end of the sofa and studying her carefully. She thanked him and accepted the drink, taking a sip before placing it down on the coffee table. After a few endless moments of silence between them, she chanced a glance and caught the flicker of concern in his eyes. But it was such a fleeting emotion she wasn't sure she'd seen it in the first place. House didn't _do_ concern. And she'd been sure he'd be more than happy about this rift between her and Andrew now...although that rift was more like a canyon.

"He accused me of having an affair with you."

She began to explain, her voice quiet and dignified despite the grief it was causing her. She paused for a moment, settling Elle into her carry-cot before turning back to House.

"He was convinced we've been sleeping together. I tried to tell him he was being ridiculous but he wouldn't listen to me. I…I've never been scared of him before, but for a split second I was. I was scared by how he just blew up."

The emotions were choking her and he desperately wished he had the aptitude to reach out to her. Instead he just sat deadly still, his eyes never wavering from her face as she tried to maintain her composure and not break down completely before him.

"I guess…he just wanted to hurt me like this whole…whatever it is between us hurt him. So he dropped that bombshell. I'd…"

Her voice hitched and she wiped away the tears falling from her eyes, taking a deep breath and steadying her voice before she managed to continue.

"I'd never suspected anything. We've been married nearly ten years and I'd never even had a suspicion that he'd cheated. I mean, I don't know when he did it…it could have been last month or it could have been eight years ago. I didn't hang around to find out."

Her whole body was trembling and House could tell she was trying very hard to reign in all the feelings currently torturing her. He finally managed to reach out and for a moment his hand hovered over her shoulder, before he gave it a supportive squeeze, not really knowing how else he could help her.

"He doesn't know what he's lost."

He said quietly, half to himself and half to her. Eyes shining with tears, she looked up at him and sniffled a little.

"Could I…could we…crash here, just for one night? I'll take the sofa; I just _can't_ go back to him tonight. I can't face him yet."

He wondered why any other option hadn't occurred to him before. As soon as she'd told him what had happened he'd assumed she was staying. It wasn't like she had any family in Princeton, and he wasn't so cold-hearted that he'd have her book into a hotel on her own in her state, with a small child to look after too. And so far the kid hadn't made a sound, so House didn't mind her presence either. If she started squawking…well, that was another matter.

"You can take my room; I'll sleep on the sofa."

He offered and it seemed to take her utterly by surprise. Then again, he'd surprised himself with that gentlemanly suggestion too. God, what was she turning him into?

"I don't want to impose, House-"

"It's kinda my fault that this has happened anyway, Cameron, so just take my room, okay?"

He looked away from her, feeling the words weighing down on both of them as soon as they left his lips. If he hadn't kissed her - twice - and if he hadn't gone to her home…none of these revelations would have unraveled. But was that a good thing or a bad thing? Wouldn't she rather have found all of this out now than go on another ten years with a husband who was cheating on her with her own sister? It also made him wonder what kind of person her sister could be if she was doing that. Clearly they weren't that close.

-----------------

He wondered absently if he could carry on calling her Cameron. Clearly, it was her married name so…what now? As he thought more about it, he realized he didn't know what her name was before she'd become a Cameron. And he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask. But did he usually care if questions were appropriate or not?

"Hey."

He said, a little discomfited as he stepped into the kitchen where Cameron was preparing Elle's bottle. She looked up and managed a small smile.

"Hey."

She replied, carefully measuring out the baby formula and testing the temperature against her wrist. He was somewhat fascinated by it, never having really witnessed her maternal side. All he saw of her on a day-to-day basis was the dedicated and brilliant young doctor supplying diagnosis after diagnosis and helping people in need. He never saw the other half of her life, the devoted and loving mother she so undoubtedly was. For a moment his questions about her name had been forgotten as he watched her trying to continue her daughter's routine amongst the ruins of what their life had been.

Once Elle had the bottle and had fallen back to sleep, Cameron began to help House set up the sheets on the sofa. They fell into an easy kind of team-work, exchanging quick glances here and there.

"So, what were you called before you married him?"

House asked, not bothering to wrap it up in false niceties. She faltered a moment before handing him the final pillow.

"Hamilton. Allison Hamilton."

She sat down with a melancholy kind of weariness on the edge of the sofa and he could sense she was opening up. It unnerved him a little – he wasn't good with opening up – but he sat down at the opposite end of the sofa nevertheless.

"I've got two sisters and a brother…Jennifer and Christian are older than me, and I know Jen would never…my younger sister, Abbie…we never got along."

House understood clearly what she was meaning, though it was obvious that thinking Abbie and Andrew could break her trust so cruelly was painful for her to accept.

"Do you…want me to carry on calling you Cameron, or…?"

He didn't know what to suggest. He couldn't see himself calling her Hamilton. It was too bizarre. She looked up at him, a stricken expression on her face and he wished he hadn't asked. She clearly hadn't thought about that aspect. But after a moment, her features softened and she gave him a small, thankful smile, as though just the fact that it had occurred to him to ask had touched her somehow.

"Just call me Allison."

She said softly, wondering what was going to become of her marriage and, if it really was the end, how she could just slip back to being "Allison Hamilton", as though none of it had ever happened. House hesitated as he regarded her carefully. He'd never called her by her first name, other than once and even that was only in a sarcastic undertone.

"I should…get some sleep. Maybe I'll be able to see a little more clearly tomorrow."

She stood up and began to walk toward his bedroom and he was left watching her go, wondering how it could be that just a few days ago all this chaos was completely unthoughtof. One kiss had triggered so many chain reactions it was hard to believe.

"House, do you have…um…" she seemed a little uncertain about asking, "A t-shirt or something? I didn't bring anything with me, I just ran out of the house."

He nodded, hauling himself to his feet and limping heavily past her into his bedroom, heading for the closet and pulling out the first t-shirt he put his hand on. As he turned and handed it to her, he was struck by the image he'd had when he'd seen her wearing her husband's shirt, his eyes clouding with desire as she took hold of the t-shirt and looked up to meet his gaze. Neither of them moved for a moment, the electricity between them almost sparking to life with the blue t-shirt held between them like a connection wire they could both feel the heat through.

"Thanks…"

She snapped back to reality in a split second and quickly turned, clearly not wanting anything happening that would really mean the end for her marriage. She wasn't quite ready to accept it yet, and with his bed less than a meter from them, if he kissed her…she wasn't sure how they would end up tonight. And with Elle asleep on the other side of the room…she was doing her utmost to put space between them. It was best for both of them this way.

"Don't mention it."

He muttered as he headed back to the living room, trying to shake the image now stuck in his head. How the hell was he going to sleep with her in the next room, wearing his t-shirt? It had to be some higher power's idea of torture; punishment for setting of the chain reaction leading to the demise of her marriage.

-----------------

Lying in his bed felt beyond strange…wrong somehow. But at the same time, it felt right, like she was supposed to be here. Maybe the tipping point was that crazy notion she'd never been able to fully shake, that she wanted him more than a married woman should, even though it had stayed well-hidden (or so she thought) in her preconscious. Maybe that's why she had so many doubts about trying to save her tattered marriage. Or maybe that was because her loving husband had slept with her wayward younger sister. She was about as opposite to Abbie as humanely possible…and it hurt that Andrew had been drawn to that.

Turning onto her stomach, she gave a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, chasing sleep whilst too many thoughts racing through her mind forced her to hang onto consciousness. What was the point in running through the fire when there was nothing left to save? Nothing was going to convince Andrew that she hadn't slept with House, she couldn't prove her innocence, and she wasn't sure she could forgive him for what he'd done to contribute to their current state.

Leaning over the side of the bed, she checked on Elle, who was still sleeping soundly in her carry-cot. Watching her daughter sleeping so peacefully brought tears to her eyes. She was thanking God now that she hadn't gotten pregnant again like Andrew had wanted, though a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach thinking about it. She couldn't imagine having the strength in her to walk away from him if she was carrying his child. Turning restlessly onto her back again, a hand absently trailing to her stomach, she frowned and shook her head.

The painful thing was; she did still love him. She'd heard people claim, "I just woke up one day and didn't love him anymore," but she wasn't sure that was possible. They'd been married almost ten years, they had a child together…she couldn't just switch off her feelings for him because he broke her heart. But going back would just mean playing the game, pretending nothing had happened, and trying to function in the ruins of what they'd been left with. That wouldn't be good for either of them, and it would inevitably lead to them resenting one another (more than they already did).

She wondered if there'd been signs, if she'd been too blind and too naïve to even notice the writing on the wall. How long had it been going on between Andrew and Abbie? Was it more than once or a one-night stand? It made her feel sick thinking of either option. Was Andrew so deeply unhappy in their marriage that he'd actively pursued Abbie? She wasn't likely to refuse – not if it meant she could take away something of the sister she'd always been jealous and resentful of – so it was entirely possible.

Before she realized it, hot tears were sliding down her cheeks, sobs burning her throat. How the hell did they wind up like this?

-----------------

"Mornin'…wow you look like crap."

House did a double take as she emerged from his bedroom. As much as he could barely take his eyes off her long legs, endless in his blue t-shirt and taunting him so early in a morning, he could tell she wasn't good. She was deathly pale and looked like she was going to either pass out or throw up at any given second.

"Thanks, House. Really appreciate that," she snapped, shooting a glare at him, "If it's any consolation, I _feel_ like crap."

Lying stretched out on the sofa; he watched her move to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water, steadying herself on the counter. He took the opportunity to really take in the sight of her, barefoot and wearing the over-sized t-shirt as well as a pair of his shorts – he momentarily wondered where she'd found them – as she put the kettle on and got him a coffee ready. It was amazing to him how she adapted so well to wherever she was. And he was more than pleased that she felt comfortable enough to pad through his apartment wearing his clothes. He wondered if she was aware of the effect it had on him.

"Did you dose my water last night or something?"

She accused lightly as she handed him the coffee and accepted the seat he offered when he shifted his legs from the sofa, trying not to wince and activate her care-bear nature. Elle began to whine in the bedroom and she immediately got up again, disappearing for a moment before returning with the child on her hip. He couldn't quite shake the small part in his brain saying, "I want this all to be mine," as he watched her with her daughter sitting next to him on the sofa.

"Well I'm glad the sprog didn't scream the place down at stupid o'clock, 'cause you wouldn't be staying again if she had."

He commented, contradicting what his mind was saying and trying to battle them out of his head. She looked up at him and it was almost as though she could read his thoughts, the flicker of a smile on her lips, before it was gone again in an instant.

"She's 18 months old, House. She's been sleeping through for quite a while now."

She informed him, wondering if his words were a round-about way of him saying he wanted her to stay again. She didn't doubt that at all, after what had happened between them already. It was perfectly clear he wanted her; even she wasn't naïve or innocent enough to believe otherwise. When nothing more was said for a few endless minutes, the unspoken desire they knew was between them making the most subtle movement awkward, Cameron shifted uncomfortably.

"I should probably get dressed and… go talk to Andrew. We need to work this out…"

As she stood up and settled Elle into the corner of the sofa, happily playing with the remote that House was quite openly eying, she felt the world spin and grabbed onto the arm of the sofa. House's eyes shot up to her and he frowned, studying her carefully.

"What's going on with you?"

He asked; half a demand and half concern lacing his voice, though he did well to hide the latter. She took a deep breath and shook her head, forcing a smile to try and evade his questioning. But even she wasn't foolish enough to think she'd get away without an interrogation.

"I'm…fine."

"Yeah, you look it," he replied sarcastically, keeping a level gaze on her, "you've practically passed out or thrown up twice already – I can't tell which but I'd rather you warned me either way; you look like death barely warmed up and you haven't touched the coffee since you got here. The Cameron I know would have almost cleared me out by now. So stop jerking about and tell me what it is."

She looked as though she was struggling with what he was asking for a moment, before she visibly deflated before his eyes, her shoulders and eyes dropping and a weary hand running across her face before she found the strength to look at him again.

"I…I'm two weeks late."

She said quietly, fighting the choking feeling clogging the back of her throat. She hadn't even wanted to consider the possibility that she could be…no. It wasn't that. She refused to accept it. She _couldn't_ be…not right now, not with the tattered ribbons of her marriage hanging by threads. And the horrible thought had occurred to her in passing the night before. Did she really have the strength to leave Andrew for good…if she was carrying his child?

"Well, have you taken a test?"

He asked, all emotion void from his voice, as though he was talking to some dumb young girl who'd wandered, terrified, into the free clinic. Cameron sighed, shaking her head. It had only been two weeks after all. And her pregnancy with Elle had knocked her regular cycle all off kilter. She'd kept blaming that in her preconscious every time her mind had doubted it for the past two weeks. She hadn't seriously thought about it as a real possibility. After all, they'd always been careful and she was on the pill. OK, so she'd skipped out on a few once or twice…the doctor in her chastised her for being so irresponsible.

"I should…take a test. Oh God…"

The panic in her voice made House break the steady, unwavering gaze he'd kept trained on her and she covered her face with her hands, sinking back down onto the sofa.

-----------------

Sitting on the side of his bath and staring at the home pregnancy test, Cameron could feel the anxiety twisting inside her. She'd actually resorted to praying now, as she closed her eyes and waited for the compulsory five minutes. It was perhaps the longest five minutes of her life and she felt like she was going to throw up just from the anxiety of not knowing.

Her heart was racing and it felt like she had a swarm of butterflies on speed going ten-to-the-dozen in her stomach as the seconds passed by. After five minutes she convinced herself to open her eyes and stared down at the little stick in her hands…

* * *

A.N: Don't worry guys, stick with it, it's not gonna end up one of those "oh, she's pregnant!" fics. This is just a little twist I'm working on :P


	7. Chapter 7

Again, stick with this guys, I know what I'm doing ;)  
Thanks for all the lovely reviews!  
It makes me smile that you're all so enthusiastic about how much you hate Andrew lol.

Peace & Cheers  
Amylia  
-x-

**What If**

**Chapter Seven – Was I Just Your Paper Doll?**

**

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**

_Paper Doll: n. someone used and played with like a child's doll; thrown around carelessly after done playing with._

_**[Previously...]**_

_Sitting on the side of his bath and staring at the home pregnancy test, Cameron could feel the anxiety twisting inside her. She'd actually resorted to praying now, as she closed her eyes and waited for the compulsory five minutes. It was perhaps the longest five minutes of her life and she felt like she was going to throw up just from the anxiety of not knowing._

_Her heart was racing and it felt like she had a swarm of butterflies on speed going ten-to-the-dozen in her stomach as the seconds passed by. After five minutes she convinced herself to open her eyes and stared down at the little stick in her hands…_

_----------_

She dropped the stick into the bin and sat back down on the side of the bath, running a shaky hand through her hair as she tried to fend off the nausea continually sweeping over her. Touching her stomach and staring blankly at the stick in the top of the waste basket, she tried to sort her thoughts out.

After a few more minutes, House tapped on the door and she snapped back to reality.

"You ok in there?"

He asked and she was somewhat surprised by the question. He didn't generally ask after anyone's welfare. Standing up slowly, her legs feeling like Jell-o, she unlocked the door and he pushed it open, trying to gauge the answer from her facial expression. But as usual, he couldn't read her as well as he thought.

"In the clear then?"

He asked, judging the result by her apparently blank and calm façade. She swallowed thickly and shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a choked whisper.

"I'm pregnant."

----------

Andrew didn't really know what to do with himself. He hadn't eaten a meal alone for over a decade now and without Cameron around, the house felt empty. He couldn't believe what he'd done. How could he have used his infidelity against her, trying to make her into the bad guy in all this? The look on her face when he'd inflicted that wound had broken him. He hadn't even tried to stop her running out of the front door. He was too disgusted with himself and frozen by his drop-kicked admission.

It had been less than a year since he'd last been unfaithful. He'd told Abbie that he couldn't do it again after the first time, but she proved to be his weak spot. The 'first time' had been just over four years ago. The last time…barely six months. He was sure Allison had suspected something, the way her sister kept appearing even though they were never close at all. But apparently not. Apparently she'd trusted him so completely that it had never crossed her mind he'd do something that would hurt her so much.

Abbie was so very different to her sister. At twenty-five, she was only five years younger than Allison but Abbie had the over-confident persona Andrew had never really found to be a turn-on. That was why Allison's modest acknowledgement of her obvious beauty had turned his head back in college.

No, Abbie was much more in-your-face and was acutely aware of her sexuality, tight jeans and form-fitting tops accentuating it. Where Allison was very petite with her delicate figure with an angel's grace, Abbie was a real contrast, with curves and cleavage she wasn't afraid of flaunting. Allison had always envied that about Abbie, but it was the younger sister that was harboured the real jealousy.

Throughout their childhood, Allison was the golden child. She got the grades, she always made their parents proud and Abbie could never quite reach the standards her older sister had set. So she learned how to manipulate people to get what she wanted instead. She was both charming and confrontational. Reserved and unruly. Seductive and naive. A lesson in contradictions.

Honey blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, she was a devil angel and at first glance she seemed harmless enough. But she'd got him hooked too fast and too tight. When he'd met Allison he'd known she was 'the one' but her sister had never made it easy. She had the lips of an angel, hiding a dangerously mischievous temperament that tended to get her exactly what she wanted.

As he sat on the sofa with his head in his hands, moonlight sneaking through the window and stretching across the floor, he couldn't bear to think about what he'd thrown away. The happy family life they'd built over the years was now in ruins around their feet. And even if he did manage to win her back, they couldn't exactly go back to the way they were.

A firm knock on the door startled him and his heart skipped a beat. Had she come back so soon? Maybe she hadn't gone to House's place like he'd accused her of.

Throwing open the door, he could barely contain his surprise when he saw none other than Abbie, leaning against the doorframe, a coy smile on her lips, blonde hair falling around her face.

"Miss me?"

She smirked, pushing herself up straight and letting herself into the house, looking around and calling Allison's name.

"Hey! Big sis? Ally?"

She called, waiting for a reply but receiving an answer from nothing but silence. Turning back to Andrew, she smiled that too-sweet smile again.

"So, we're alone?"

She asked innocently, walking closer to him and biting her lip seductively, as though thinking hard about what they could possibly happen when they were alone. He stepped back and shook his head.

"Abbie…she knows."

The smile disappeared from her face, and her colour drained. A frown replacing the smile, hands on her hips, she looked defiantly at Andrew.

"And how the hell did she find out? Couldn't take lying to my sweet, perfect big sister any longer or something? She's not as perfect as you seem to think she is, Andy! We have a good thing going here, why spoil it?"

He could barely believe what he was hearing. Not that it was at all surprising Abbie would be so selfish and callous, but she had no idea.

"_I _accused _her_ of cheating. I thought she'd been sleeping with her boss-"

"_Dr. House_?"

Abbie interrupted, incredulous laughter slicing the tense atmosphere in two when Andrew nodded.

"You really think _Ally_ would cheat on you with her _boss_? With _House_? Wow, you're even crazier than I thought. I would have assumed after ten years together you'd have figured out her _insane_ moral compass by now. If anything's happened between them...well, it won't have been initiated by Allison."

Andrew wanted to shake her. Did she not see what was happening here? He'd lost everything. And she was more concerned about how funny it was that he'd thought Allison would cheat. Well she'd clearly never seen House and Allison together before. The chemistry they had was undeniable, and that had been entirely too clear even from just seeing them interact for a few moments. He'd not let it dwell on his mind but when he'd come home to find House breaking into that part of their life together too – he had her at work all day every day, why should he have any part of their home life? – his anger had bubbled over.

"You'd have suspected something too, if you saw the position they were in when I walked through the door."

Abbie still looked sceptical.

"Were they in bed together? Did he have her pinned to the wall with his hands in naughty places? Was she on her knees? I very much doubt it. Precious Ally is too scared of consequences, of getting into trouble or hurting anyone, to ever cheat on you. I think," she stepped closer to him again, speaking her words slowly, dragging them out across his lips, "you were transferring. Get scared she'd started to figure us out, Andrew? So you go and accuse her to make yourself feel better. How manly of you."

She taunted him, trailing a manicured fingernail down his chest and stopping at the buckle of his jeans. His breath caught and he knew he was a lost cause. This thing with Abbie…no matter how many times he tried to end it, she always had her ways of twisting him right around her finger. For a while, she made him forget there were any costs to what they were doing. She didn't care if her sister got hurt; all she cared about was getting her own way.

----------

"What are you gonna do?"

They were sat stiffly next to each other on the sofa, House taking the initiative to speak first after an endless five minutes of silence. He couldn't help it, but he kept glancing at her stomach, wondering if she was going to go back to her jerk of a husband now that she was carrying his kid. It was almost an unbearable thought, and before he knew what he was saying the words had left his lips.

"Don't go back to him."

She looked up sharply at him, tear-filled eyes searching his, trying to decipher and extract meaning. She didn't know what reply she could give him, her mind scrambled with all sorts of arguments. She still loved him…and she was pregnant with his child. But he'd broken her so cruelly, the worst kind of cheating she could ever imagine being the victim of. But here she was and this was all real. The world was a horrible place and fate was crueler than she could bear to think about.

"House…"

"Do not go back to him, Cameron."

He repeated, more firmly this time. He realised that he'd called her Cameron, instead of Allison like she'd said, but it didn't seem to register with her. She was too concerned with the mess she was currently in.

"I'm carrying his baby, what else am I supposed to do? I can't raise two kids on my own!"

Her voice shrill, she stood up and began pacing the room, a hand pressed to her temple.

"I-it might have been years ago for all I know! It might've been before we got married! Or he might not have slept with her at all," at House's dubious expression she tried to assure herself as well as him that it was a possibility, "he could have said it for impact, just to hurt me."

"Right."

House was wholly unconvinced and shook his head, wishing she'd just open her eyes to the truth and stop trying to find the good in everyone. Her asshole of a husband had cheated on her with her sister, yet she was _defending_ his confession. He hoped to God it was just her hormones running riot, because she really wasn't _that_ stupid he was sure.

"House, he's all I've ever known! I can't just give that up. I was eighteen when we met, and I'd never…been with anyone else. He was…he was my first, and he was always my 'one'. I just find it hard to accept that he'd throw it all away now, over some stupid little fight we had."

"Yeah, well believe it. Screw your brain back on, OK, because you're pathetic when you're not being rational."

Ever-tactful, he was determined to make her see sense. He could hardly bear the thought of her running back to Andrew now, after all this. He could hardly bear to let her go now that he'd had a tiny taster of what it could be like to wake up to her in the morning. They hadn't even slept in the same room, but her open vulnerability in the morning had stirred a kind of longing in his chest. He refused to consider his feelings for her. Her life was already too complicated now as it was, without adding his own complications to the mix and consequently taking on all of hers too.

"I have to talk to him."

She was biting her nails now, walking to the window and staring out into the street below, as though the cause of all her anguish was out there calling her back. His jaw clenching, House shoved himself to his feet with a wince, limping heavily over to her, taking hold of her shoulders and forcing her to face him. The physical connection sent a spark of static through them both and momentarily he forgot the purpose of his actions.

"You don't need him. He doesn't deserve to get you back."

He finally said; his voice quiet as he struggled with the admission – because there was one underneath all his metaphors and sarcastic jibes – with 'supportive' certainly not being his strong suit.

She looked up at him, her gaze glittering with unshed tears, never wavering from his. In one movement he'd leaned down and their lips had connected, his hands moving from her shoulders to her neck, tasting the kiss with everything he had. He felt her sob into their kiss, his cheek becoming wet with the tears streaking down hers. He brushed them away, a gentle touch from calloused fingers, and she clung to him in a desperate cry for answers.

If she wasn't to go back to Andrew, she needed someone to help her through all this. He wasn't the helping kind. But maybe, just maybe, he could try this once.

Breaking away from him finally, she bit her lip, trying to tie herself back together.

"I need to go and talk to him. I just…I just want to know he's sorry, for all of this, for breaking me. I need that closure."

"And if he's not sorry? What then?"

He challenged, his words hanging between them. She couldn't find a reply to that, didn't know 'what then' if he didn't regret any of it. Backing up a few steps, needing some distance, some space to catch her breath, she pushed loose wisps of hair off her face.

"Could you keep an eye on Elle? She'll be no trouble; she's ready for a sleep now anyway. Just for a half hour, whilst I go and…talk to him."

House could do nothing but nod succinctly, wondering what 'keeping an eye' on a child involved, as he watched her go. All he could hope for was that this wouldn't all backfire and leave her even more damaged than she currently was. Because he wasn't sure how much more one person could take.

----------

Sliding her key into the door, Cameron paused a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. If she walked into here, her heart still aching from his callous confession the night before, what was she going to say? And should she tell him about the pregnancy or would that only make him want her back for all the wrong reasons?

Second guessing herself, she backed up a few steps, intent on leaving without getting the closure she thought she needed, but something stopped her. They needed to act like grown-ups and deal with this reasonably. She couldn't forgive what he'd done, even she had her limits. But she'd hear him out, maybe there was some less-hurtful explanation that he'd twisted to use as a weapon last night.

Summoning the courage she knew she had somewhere, she unlocked the door and stepped inside the home she and Andrew had made together. It felt cold now; she couldn't really place why. She could hear movement in the bedroom so, dropping her bag on the sofa, she made her way toward it, practicing what she was going to say to him. She knew she had to protect her heart at all costs right now, because he could break it so easily.

Pushing open the door, she stopped dead, a hand flying to her mouth and a stunned gasp leaving her lips. She couldn't drag her eyes away from them. Right there, in her bed…her sister and her husband…

She felt physically sick, tears spilling from her eyes and blurring her vision as she stumbled backwards. She needed to get out, his voice calling her name echoing in her head and making her dizzy. Gagging, she fumbled for her bag blindly, knocking a chair over and smashing a vase in the process. But she didn't even register any of that. All she could see was the image on a loop in her mind, torturing and tormenting her, of Abbie and Andrew...in her bed, doing _that_.

Andrew suddenly appeared in the living room, having pulled on his boxers as quickly as possible.

"Ally…please, don't go-"

"So you expect me to _stay_ when _she's_ in there…in _our_ bed? You must be delusional, Andrew!"

She spun round to face him and yelled, fury and pain proving to be a potent mixture. Visibly deflating before him, her legs practically collapsing from beneath her, she gripped the side of the sofa for some kind of support, dropping down to sit heavily on it for fear she couldn't hold herself up. He approached her and she held her hand up.

"Do _not_ come near me. I came here to…to talk like an adult. To talk about it and maybe work something out. I cannot believe you've got her here…I-I've been gone a _night_! One night."

The tears flooded like rivers down her cheeks and she brushed them away harshly. She wanted to be angry instead of hurt, strong instead of weak, able to stand up and walk out of his life for good.

"I thought maybe it was a one-time thing, that perhaps ten years ago you made a mistake. But it's still going on…how many times have you fucked her in our bed? How many times have you come home to me after being with _her_? She's my sister, damnit!"

Her voice cracked and she wanted to hit him, crash her tiny fists into his chest until he held her and she could cry it all out, until all the tears had washed away the agony she felt at this enormous betrayal.

"How long has it been going on? Just tell me the _truth_."

She demanded. Abbie was still in the bedroom, possibly afraid of facing her sister's wrath or possibly ashamed of what they'd done. Most likely the former, Cameron thought bitterly. Abbie was almost like a female version of House. She didn't care who she hurt. As long as she was enjoying herself, she didn't give a passing thought to anyone else. But somehow she was drawn to House despite that imperfection. Somehow she'd fallen in love with him along the way…had Andrew fallen for Abbie?

"Four years."

He said quietly and she didn't even respond, her heart numb with the whole situation becoming near-unbearable. Four years of their marriage had been a joke. Four years…nearly half of their marriage…and she'd been so blind. She couldn't believe she'd never even suspected anything. All those times he'd been 'late' from work, she'd never doubted. The thought had never crossed her mind that he'd be so cold.

"She's the opposite of me, Andrew. Were you really t_hat_ unhappy that you wanted the opposite of everything I am? Do you feel _that_ little for me-"

"I love you, Allison-"

"Don't you _dare_ say that!" She yelled, standing up suddenly and landing a sharp slap to his face. He just took it, knowing he deserved that and a hell of a lot more, "Don't you _dare_ try to smooth this over. You two deserve each other. I hope you're happy together."

Feeling the emotions choking her, she grabbed her bag and practically ran for the front door, suffocating in the home they'd once been so happy in. Throwing open the front door, she turned to him. Levelling a broken gaze with him, her hand drifted to her stomach, bitter words leaving her lips and burning her tongue.

"And just so you know, that baby you wanted? Congratulations, I'm pregnant."

The look of complete shock on his face was enough and she slammed the door behind her, leaving him to think about everything he'd thrown away.


	8. Chapter 8

**What If**

**Chapter Eight – Healing Comes So Painfully  
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After slamming the door behind her, all the neighbours watching with unconcealed intrigue as the marriage they'd all thought was perfect crashed down with such ferocity, all Cameron wanted to do was drive. She didn't know where, she just needed space. It was suffocating her. But driving in the state she was in probably wasn't the best idea, so instead she sat behind the wheel, staring out of the windscreen vacantly.

After a while, she glanced up at the house to see Abbie appearing from the front door, slipping out and glancing around as she pulled on her jacket. Cameron watched her, feeling nothing as Abbie's eyes caught hers and she stopped dead, clearly unsure of what to do. Cameron couldn't tell what was going through her sister's mind – but she never really had been able to – and with a small quirk of her lips Abbie was gone, slipping into her car and slamming down her accelerator. Cameron was left watching the dust settle whilst Abbie's car disappeared down the street. It was ironic how well it suited their relationship, Cameron thought bitterly. Abbie kicked up dust and she was left watching it settle around her, ready to brush it up and carry on with her life.

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After she'd gone, House had watched Elle playing; wondering what was stopping him from wanting all that: the beautiful wife (like a certain stunning immunologist whom he couldn't stop thinking about), 2.5 children and the white picket fences. He'd never wanted it though, had always kicked out against such conformist, traditional values. It was too false, in his eyes. Everybody lied, and when you tied two people together with that thing called love, everything would crumble when one of them eventually strayed.

He couldn't open up enough to let her in. Part of him was terrified at the idea that she could so easily break him if he let her too close, and part of him was scared he'd break her just the same. He thought back on how much Stacy had changed in their five years together. She'd never been naïve, because she _was_ a lawyer after all. But after a few years with House, she'd certainly hardened up a lot, she was more cynical, more cut-throat.

He hadn't liked what she'd turned in to, and when he'd realised his heart was no longer in their relationship, she'd seemed unaffected, having learned how to hide emotions from him, to protect herself from that sharp and sometimes acidic tongue of his. Some part of him would always love her, but they'd pushed each other away enough in the end that there were only so many cracks they could take before they were destined to fall apart.

Cameron was different somehow. She was naïve and tried to see the best in people...she'd even tried to defend her cheating husband, though he guessed that was more hope on her part than actually wanting to defend Andrew. And as much as House scoffed at her Disney-like view of the world, where the good people triumphed and the bad people lost all, House couldn't put his finger on why, but he was drawn to her. He mocked her black-and-white outlook, but she was beginning to see the shades of grey now. He wanted to touch but he was frightened of marring the fragile perfection that had too recently been damaged.

He also wasn't sure if he could handle the sudden responsibility of a child (or two) if he did let himself open up to Cameron. She needed support, with everything she was going through, and he couldn't be that for her. He just couldn't provide the emotional support she needed. The thought, in fact, terrified him.

Deep down, he knew that part of the reason he'd never wanted kids was the idea that he might turn into his father. As much as he came across as an uncaring bastard, the thought of treating his own child like his father treated him, of his own child resenting him the way he resented John House…that was enough to put him off ever risking it.

But he reluctantly admitted that he was fighting a smile as he watched Elle discovering the mirror. She stopped, watching curiously for a moment before moving a little closer to this other child that had suddenly appeared before her. Reaching out a tiny hand she backed off quickly as the 'other child' imitated exactly what she did.

This game entertained her for endlessly amusing minutes until she became a little perplexed by it and started to cry. House wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. Just move her away from the mirror and let her get on with finding her toys, or comfort her, or maybe offer some kind of other distraction? He simply didn't understand what this whole parenting thing took, or how Cameron made it seem so natural and easy.

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After she heard the door slam, with nothing but silence following it, Abbie had remained frozen in the bed for a few endless moments. Had she heard right? Was her sister really pregnant again?

Pushing her hair off her face, she got up and grabbed a silk robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door, before quietly slipping out into the living room. Andrew was stood perfectly still by the door, his back to her.

"Maybe it was for the best-"

"For the best?! You really think my wife catching us doing it in the bed we've slept in for years is 'for the best'? You really think me losing all chance of seeing my unborn child is 'for the best'?"

He was incredulous and she folded her arms, raising her eyebrows in response.

"This isn't _all_ down to me, y'know! You're the one who can't keep it in his pants. If you really loved Ally that much, you'd have told me where to go four years ago…or at the very least last night!"

He had no reply for that, because he knew she was right. He'd never been able to resist Abbie, but he should have done. He did love Allison, always had. But he'd never felt like he really deserved her. Giving in to her sister only confirmed that in his mind. How could he ever have accused Allison of cheating? Abbie had been right – if she had cheated she'd have been overcome by guilt and would surely have crumbled when the accusations started flying.

And now she was pregnant. He wasn't just losing his wife – whom he fully deserved to lose for what he'd put her through – but his daughter and unborn child too.

"Well, at least she's gone now. You – _we_ – can move on with our lives."

"Are you kidding me? You think I'm just going to let her go, that easily? Let my children go that easily? This, between us," he gestured between them and shook his head, "it's over. Never again."

Abbie simply smiled, a bored sigh passing her lips.

"You say that every time, Andrew. She won't take you back. She's not as pathetic as you seem to think she is. Ally is tougher than _anyone_ gives her credit for."

Knowing that was one of the only nice things she'd ever said about her sister, Abbie disappeared back into the bedroom, pulled on her clothes and grabbed her bag as she returned to the living room. Andrew was now sat on the sofa, head in his hands. She didn't' say a word to him, simply made for the front door, keys in hand.

Closing the door behind her, she was halfway down the steps when her eyes caught sight of a familiar car across the street and before she realised it, she was looking straight into the broken gaze of her older sister.

She'd never before felt guilty about anything, believing regrets were pointless and the world was cold, so you had to be a cold, hard bitch to survive. But seeing Allison looking straight at her, void of the contempt she knew she herself would feel toward a woman she'd caught her husband in bed with, caused a stirring of guilt in her stomach.

She didn't know what to do, but she wanted out. Either that or she wished Allison would just get out of the car and start screaming at her. At least it would dissipate some of the guilt, if she could release it all by yelling back. She could let out all the anger she'd been harbouring toward her over the years.

Part of her wanted to see her sister hurting. All her life, Abbie had watched whilst Allison had landed on her feet, had made the right choices, had made their parents proud. And for every good decision Allison made, Abbie had countered it, whether purposefully to be spiteful or whether it was purely accidental. Her resentment toward her older sister had accumulated over the years and even when Allison had moved away to Princeton, Abbie still heard nothing but, "Ally did this," or, "Ally said that," back home in Illinois. She was perpetually in her shadow.

So Abbie had grown to hate Allison, in contrast to her other sister Jennifer, whom she was sure didn't have one jealous or bitter bone in her body. In that respect, Jennifer was much like Allison and she would always be pleased for anything good happening to her siblings. But with the constant, "Oh, Abigayle, why can't you be more like Ally?" used to put her down; her antipathy had always been channelled toward Allison.

She was never as smart, or as moral, or as pretty as Allison. So when Andrew had come onto the scene, attending college with Allison but also being the son of long-time family friends, Abbie had instantly fallen for him, and instead of returning those feelings, he fell in love with and married Allison. That had been a real tipping point and she'd vowed that she'd made Allison hurt as much as she had when she'd been forced to watch them walk down the aisle.

Turning on her heel with a small quirk of her lips, arrogance hiding the real hurt she kept beneath the surface, Abbie made for her car, the bitter part of her pleased she'd finally made Allison pay for all the years of being second best.

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Putting her car into gear as Abbie's car disappeared down the street; Cameron sighed and wondered what had gone so wrong with them. Abbie had always hated her, but she'd never understood why. She hadn't hated Jennifer, and she and Jen were very similar. She didn't know what she'd done to cause her younger sister to feel such contempt toward her.

Refusing to dwell on it, fed up of trying to figure Abbie's motives out, Cameron instead focused on the drive back to House's apartment, leaving Andrew and her old life behind her without glancing in her rear-view mirror.

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House decided that the best course of action with the kid crying was to pick her up. That's what Cameron did after all, and it seemed to work. So he limped heavily over to the tearful child and awkwardly hoisted her into the air. Her crying had wavered for a moment as she studied him, as though trying to decide whether or not to comply with his obvious attempts to shut her up.

She continued to whine as he managed to make it to the sofa, sitting her on his good leg and watching carefully as she settled, somehow fascinated by the logo on the front of his shirt, trying to grab at it but to no avail. It amused him a little and he couldn't help but be somewhat enthralled by how much she was like a tiny version of Cameron.

But the sound of a car pulling up and a door slamming shut jerked him back to reality and he uncomfortably heaved Elle onto his hip before glancing out of the window and limping to the door. The little girl giggled at the bouncing movement of his gait and he shook his head.

"Oh, yeah, that's right; laugh at a cripple. Evil kid."

He muttered lightly, reaching the door and flinging it open. Cameron wasn't crying, nor was she screaming or half-catatonic.

She looked faintly startled as the door swung open before her before she'd even knocked, but her face softened and a small smile – somewhat sad if he had to describe it – tugged at her lips when she saw him stood in the doorway holding her daughter.

Cameron ruffled her daughter's hair and managed a smile as the child squealed with joy at Cameron's return, holding out her tiny arms and straining for her mother. Of course, Cameron couldn't deny the little girl and took her from House with a grateful squeeze of his arm.

He gave a short nod and dropped his gaze. He wasn't a baby person so he really hadn't planned on handling the kid in any way…she knew that, right?

"You look…calm. Did your _talk_ go well or something?"

He was certainly surprised when she shook her head, intrigued as he joined her making her way to the sofa, Elle on her knee as she sat.

"She was there."

He stayed quiet, able to imagine the scene in his head and actually feeling a kind of sympathy for Cameron. He wasn't used to that emotion so he quashed it, shaking his head to clear it properly. He hated how she could make him…_feel_.

"Did you…"

"Walk in on them? Yeah, I did. He was…they were…in _our_ bed."

He could hear the strain in her voice and he wondered how long her calm façade was going to last.

"It made me sick, House. I'd been gone a night and he clearly feels _that_ little for me that he has no problems fucking her in _our_ bed! And I hate to think how many times they've done it there in the past."

His frown deepened as he studied her carefully, her words turning around in his mind.

"In the past?"

"Yeah, he's been sleeping with her for four years. That's four years of our marriage that's meant _nothing_ to him. He always kept on about how he so desperately wanted kids, and when I finally did get pregnant with Elle, he was…he was so happy. But he carried on with her anyway. And I thought I had it all. I thought _we _had it all. Well, he clearly did – he had me _and_ my sister on the go for four years."

She was still maintaining her strong front, but a single tear drifting down her cheek gave her pain away. Without thinking, he reached over and brushed it away, his had stilling against her cheek as he realised what he'd done, her pulse thrumming beneath the fingers close to her neck. She looked back at him, eyes brimming with far too many emotions for him to handle, searching for something in him that he was trying so hard to hide.

He leaned over and pressed a ghost of a kiss on her lips, feeling her respond every so slightly, her hesitation still evident. It was the only way he knew how to provide comfort. But her hesitance was only natural trusting now, after her own husband and sister had betrayed her so coldly.

"You can stay here as long as you want."

He mumbled against her lips and she nodded, whispering a thank you back before he moved back into his own space, aware that Elle was watching them carefully. The little girl probably had no clue about what was going on, and House was somewhat glad she was too young to understand her mother kissing another man other than her father wasn't generally what happened when her parents were happy.

He was surprised Cameron was controlling her emotions so well though. No more tears had fallen from her eyes and she seemed remarkably composed.

"I'll start looking for a place, but if we can stay here whilst I look that's great."

For a moment there was a moment of silence between them before Cameron cleared her throat.

"I'm gonna need a good divorce lawyer…do you mind if I consult Stacy about it? I mean, with her connections she'll know-"

"It's fine, Cameron."

He couldn't help but find her quick justification quite endearing, if not completely typical of her. But at least she had her head screwed on now. She wasn't wallowing in self-pity or questioning what she'd done so wrong in their marriage…she was thinking practically and rationally. Lawyer, divorce, closure.

"You…don't mind me bringing her back into your life?"

"She won't be 'back in my life', OK?" He was defensive and she could sense the irritation in him when it came to talking about Stacy, "She's not a divorce attorney, so she won't be on your case, ergo she won't have to come back here. That's everyone happy."

She simply nodded and he pushed himself up off the sofa, heading for the kitchen. She suspected he just needed the space back between them. She'd stumbled too close to the personal stuff and he was backing off. Sighing softly, she rocked Elle as the baby drifted off in her arms.

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A.N. Just a quick note to say a big thank you to all of you! Your reviews are my Vicodin and I really appreciate you sticking with this despite Andrew!Baby LOL :P Don't worry, I'm addressing it next chapter! :)

Aaaand, as some of you requested, I'm starting to delve into Abbie's motives. Let me know what you think :)


	9. Chapter 9

**What If**

**Chapter Nine – Taking Back My Brave**

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"He'll be at work; I can just go in, get the baby's things and be out again within a half hour."

Cameron was reassuring herself as much as she placed Elle in his arms and grabbed her keys. He was becoming quite adept in how to handle a child now. But after a further four days living with House, it had become apparent that the baby really couldn't go on sleeping in her carry cot. And as sceptical as House was, Cameron was pretty strong for her size. She was sure she could heft the crib, a few baby clothes and some of her own clothes back to his apartment on her own.

Diapers and baby food she could simply buy, but there were only so many days she could alternate the few clothes of her daughters that had been in the baby bag before it was classed as child neglect. It was time to take a deep breath and step foot into the house she'd once called home for the last time. Or at least, the last time until she moved all of her own stuff out.

"Just…call if you need help. I'll send Wilson."

Cameron smiled and rolled her eyes at him. Typical. It sounded like he was willing to help…and then he delegated. It was quite impressive really, she had to admit. Giving Elle a quick kiss and House a smile of thanks, she headed down the steps toward her car. Glancing back, she couldn't help but think things were getting better already as the image of House stood in his doorway holding her daughter in his arms imprinted in her mind, even after he'd shut the door and she was halfway across town.

Pulling up outside the house, Cameron looked up at it and consciously eased her grip on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath and steeling herself before she got out of the car. She didn't let her fingers linger on the door key before she slid it into the lock and stepped inside. She was instantly filled with the sense of urgency, the need to get what she needed and get out. The memories of what they'd had, of what they'd lost…it was all still too raw. She wasn't ready to be back here. But she simply took yet another deep breath and moved toward Elle's nursery.

She pulled a small suitcase out from the bottom of the baby's closet and proceeded to pack Elle's clothes before she emptied the crib and moved them out into the living room. As she went toward her bedroom, she stopped dead. She could hear music and movement coming from inside and she slowly backed away, her mind providing all sorts of reasons why she could just take what she'd already packed and just leave. She didn't want confrontation right now.

But before she had chance to take another step, the bedroom door swung open and Andrew appeared, carrying what looked like bed sheets.  
Maybe she wasn't the only one who couldn't think of their bed the same way again. The moment he caught sight of her he too froze, wondering if he was hallucinating. But as his eyes flickered over the suitcase and crib next to her, the realisation hit him. She was moving things out.

"Allison-"

"Please…don't make this hard. I just need some things; I'll move everything else out another time."

She flew past him into the bedroom, determined to grab some of her things and get herself out of the situation she desperately did not want to be in right now.

Of course, he followed her, continually trying to talk her down, get her to listen to him and maybe then they could 'work things out'. But she switched off, refusing to let his words register in her mind and instead focusing on what she was there for. The music he'd been playing in their room haunted her. It was a song they'd danced to at their wedding reception. She stopped for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she consciously blocked out the music, before biting her lip and carrying on with the job at hand.

He was well aware that she had chosen to drop by at a time in the day when he would normally be at work. He was well aware she'd planned to avoid seeing him. And he was well aware that she wasn't listening to him now.

"Please listen to me. It was all a mistake. I miss you and Elle. We can work something out but if you won't even talk to me-"

"And why _should_ I? Why should I listen to a word you've got to say? Maybe if it was just once, with a complete stranger when you were drunk, I could consider forgiving you. But it _wasn't_! You've been sleeping with my _sister_ for _four years_! Even when our daughter was born you still carried it on. So excuse me if I never want to see you again."

With that, she zipped up the suitcase she'd thrown her clothes into and shoved past him, not bothering to even glance at him as she did so. Having had the four days to really think about it all, she'd realised she didn't need him. She didn't need to be in a relationship when he had such little respect for her that he was happy to be sleeping with Abbie on the side. She didn't deserve it. All she'd ever done was love him and work hard through the ups and downs to keep it all together.

She made for the door; intent on loading up as much as she could so she wouldn't have to put herself through this again at least until some of the wounds had healed over. But he insisted on following, grabbing her arm as she got to the steps with her suitcase.

She jerked her arm out of his hold and immediately gasped as she lost balance. Her eyes wide, she tried to grab onto the railing as she missed her footing and fell, hard, down the eight steep steps down to the sidewalk. Her vision blurred as her head hit one of the railings and Andrew was beside her in seconds. She felt physically sick, her head throbbing and her whole left side screaming with pain at the force with which she'd hit the paving.

Pushing his hands away from her she struggled to sit up, a hand gingerly touching her head and finding it matted with blood. He was apologising incessantly and she didn't have the state of mind to scream at him to shut up like she so wanted to. Instead, she stumbled to her feet and tried to suppress the nausea sweeping over her in waves.

All she could think of was getting out of there as fast as possible, whilst his words filtered through to her in fits and starts, "concussion," and "bleeding" ricocheting around in her mind. She could hear her own breathing and her heart was racing, anxiety building up inside her as she threw the suitcase into the trunk and numbly retrieved both the crib and the baby's suitcase of clothes.

She left Andrew stood helplessly on the sidewalk as she started up the car and pulled out into the street, only thinking about being as far from him as possible.

As she drove, biting back the queasiness and trying to concentrate on the road, an agonisingly sharp pain bolted through her abdomen and she cried out, clutching her stomach as she tried desperately to keep control of the car. Luckily there was very little traffic about and other than a few angry horns blaring as she swerved, she managed to make it back to House's apartment otherwise unscathed.

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She was shaking as she dragged herself up to his door, weakly knocking before the door was opened. House's permanent frown deepened when he saw the state she was in. She had an already-bruising graze on her cheek and her whole body was trembling. Without thinking, he helped her to the sofa, demanding to know what had happened.

"What the hell did he do to you?"

His voice was like thunder, the look in his eyes matching it, and for a moment she felt safe. He wouldn't let anything else hurt her. But she couldn't find her voice. She was in shock and her body felt like ice, whilst her head and her left side felt like they were on fire.

He handed her a glass of water before joining her on the sofa, studying her carefully for a moment before beginning to examine the head injury she'd sustained. After a few gulps of the water she managed to stop her heart from beating quite so fast and found her voice again, though it was still shaky.

"I-it was an accident. He grabbed my arm and I fell down some steps. I think I hit my head on the railing."

He pulled back to look at her for a second, opening her eyes wide to assess her pupils. She knew he was checking for concussion and she also knew she probably did have a mild one from the sheer force of the fall. But that's not what worried her.

"I…was driving and I got a pain in my…in my stomach."

She looked fearfully up at him and he closed his eyes for a moment, a sigh passing his lips before he shook his head a little.

"For one thing, I can't believe you were stupid enough to drive in this state. And second…you know we should go and get you checked out properly. You've got a concussion but that pain in your abdomen…"

He didn't even need to say it, she knew. Her head was spinning and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She glanced over at Elle, sat playing happily as she pretended to read one of House's medical journals by the piano, and she grabbed House's hand, her eyes finding his.

"I don't want to lose this. I know I wished it had never happened, but…I don't want to lose it."

Tears slipped from her eyes and House looked down as the drops fell onto their linked hands. In the four days she'd been picking the pieces of her heart up off the floor, she'd come to realise that even if the baby was Andrew's, it was still hers too. And she'd love it just like she loved Elle. But now she faced the prospect of it all being taken away. And maybe it was for the best, but it sure didn't feel like that right now.

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"So, you fell and sustained a head injury and you're experiencing pain where?"

She knew Brenda the nurse quite well already, having dealt with her on numerous occasions (usually when the fiery nurse was coming to blows with House about one ethical issue or another) but the woman was being very nice to her despite their associations.

"In my abdomen and all down my left side. I think that's all just superficial bruising though," she gestured painfully to her side, "but…I'm pregnant. About 7 or 8 weeks, I think."

This news seemed to catch Brenda's attention and she immediately signalled for another nurse, whom Cameron vaguely remembered as Anna, and told her to fetch a portable ultra-sound. Cameron's heart sank. She was dreading it. As a doctor, she was well aware of what she would see on the ultrasound. Or rather, what she wouldn't see. A heartbeat.

Her blood test was sent to the lab marked as an urgent sample – which certainly didn't fill her with any confidence – and one of the OBGYN doctors was paged to perform an internal pelvic examination. It wasn't a pleasant experience at all and she understood perfectly what the doctor she only vaguely recognised was saying. She knew exactly what "dilation" meant and the hope she'd been clinging to was rapidly fading.

Anna returned with the ultra-sound and she held her breath as Brenda applied the gel to her still-flat stomach, closing her eyes and pleading silently that there'd be a heartbeat. She was steeling herself for the worst though, so it wouldn't hurt so much when her fears were confirmed.

After a few minutes of silence, Brenda removed the Doppler stick from her stomach and Cameron opened her eyes, trying to read her expression.

"Have I…?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron," Brenda said gently, as she wiped the gel away with a tissue, "You'll experience some bleeding over the next few days…I probably don't need to tell you this."

Cameron was numb. She'd expected it but to hear it confirmed that she'd miscarried…it was a real blow. Brenda offered her counselling if she wanted it, which she declined politely, and gave her a miscarriage leaflet. Not really feeling anything other than numbness, she made her way to Diagnostics.

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House had told her he'd be there, after dropping the baby off with Cuddy, who could be kept occupied for hours when given a baby. It would be a win-win situation: Cuddy got to mother the child to death whilst House got to easily dodge clinic hours for the duration. As she approached his office, her eyes surprisingly dry considering the loss she felt, she saw him sat in his chair, tossing his oversized tennis ball in the air. He was deep in thought.

She'd suspected that he'd been both afraid to overcrowd her if she needed space to let it sink in, and afraid to get too close to the personal stuff. It had been easier for both of them for her to go alone and she'd appreciated their unspoken agreement.

Slowly entering the office, she saw him studying her carefully and quickly broke eye contact, shifting her gaze to the floor. He knew by the look on her face that it wasn't good news.

"I've lost it. There was no heartbeat."

She said quietly, approaching his desk and wondering why her eyes weren't filled with tears, wondering why she felt nothing despite it all.

"It's probably for the best."

He said and she could feel his discomfort. She offered a rueful smile and nodded slightly. Beginning to throw the ball up in the air again, he shifted his eyes away from her.

"Maybe you should take time off."

"No," she responded, a little too quickly, "I…can't. I need to keep moving, keep…on my feet. If I don't, I'll crash. I can't sit around thinking about all of this right now. Maybe when it's not so painful and new."

He didn't reply, just maintained a steady gaze on her, deliquescence of the hardness in his features for no more than a second making her realise just how much he did care. He may never vocalise it, but it was those split seconds when his guard dropped that she would simply _know_. When she surprised him with inner strength he never gave her credit for, the resistance in him would waver and it was almost as if everything disappeared, an island of hope surrounding them, before being broken with a self-preservative remark from him. He was scared. She was scared. Maybe they could compromise and find some (safe) middle ground.

"I could...work three days a week, for now, I guess."

She was reluctant but compromise was what kept them above water. In his own silent, stoic way he was concerned about her and she acknowledged it with negotiation. There was a slight upward twitch of his lips and he was amused. She was learning.

"And look for a damn apartment during your time off."

He commented, but it lacked any kind of strength. He actually meant the opposite, she knew. She had realised now that, though he would probably never admit to it, he liked having her (and perhaps Elle too) around. He liked waking up to something other than the news report to keep him company. He liked his coffee waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom. And he liked the somewhat comfortable, subtle progression of a routine they'd already fallen into. Once he'd even put Elle to bed (with a large input from Cameron of course).

They didn't discuss this apparent relationship that was blooming between them. She was too frightened that acknowledging its presence would cause it to perhaps smash in some way. And he was too busy denying to himself that he was slowly but surely falling for her. But the thought had flitted across his mind (after one too many Vicodin) that he was beginning to like the person he was when he was around her.

She was patient, gentle and caring, and seemingly nothing he could do or say to her, no matter how rude or insensitive, could break her. Of course, she was already rather broken, and he could see the damage perfectly and painfully clearly whenever he looked into the tragic green pools of light in her eyes. She still had a spark though. She still refused to give up hope. He both abhorred and adored that quality, mocking her openly whilst secretly hoping she never gave up that naïve, innocent sense of expectation.

But whatever was slowly blossoming between them, she didn't want to spoil it by forcing emotions on him right now. She hoped that maybe, in finding the strength to leave Andrew for good, in summoning the courage to cope with the miscarriage and in taking things slow and steady, they could lean on each other and maybe…just maybe, things could work out for them.


End file.
